


thin ice

by antspaul



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: (kinda), Anorexia, Arranged Marriage, Bingeing, Bulimia, Canon Era, Courtship, Eating Disorders, F/M, Forbidden Love, Graphic descriptions of an eating disorder, Kissing, Mental Illness, Poverty, Purging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antspaul/pseuds/antspaul
Summary: "She still has a long way to go. Frustration builds in her throat and she wishes she could eat what she wanted and still stay slim and beautiful and perfect like Anne or Ruby. But things are the way things are. Nothing can be done about that. Diana will be beautiful. She just has to stay in control."When her world seems to be falling apart at the seams, Diana Barry finds power in the strict regulation of food. At the same time, her friendship with the Cuthbert's farm boy grows into more than she could have expected. And so she spirals.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you are AT ALL triggered by anything relating to eating disorders, bingeing, purging, restriction, suicide ideation, etc PLEASE SO NOT READ THIS FIC. This story is extremely graphic. Your mental health is much more important than reading a story. If you are still struggling, know that you are worthy of recovery and are so much more than your eating disorder and how you look. If you need resources about recovery, you can call the National Eating Disorders Association helpline: 1-800-931-2237.

She stands naked in the mirror, night dress at her feet. Measuring tape in her hands, pulled tightly around her waist. Unhappy with the number on the tape, she unwraps her waist, breathes out, sucks in, and tries again, this time pulling tighter. It doesn’t make a difference. 

The measuring tape drops to the floor. 

Her fingers pinch at the loose skin around her stomach, thighs, neck, arms. Her arms have improved. Her thumb and index finger almost touch when she squeezes her forearm. Her stomach is still grotesquely pot-bellied, though her hips look a little smaller. 

She still has a long way to go. Frustration builds in her throat and she wishes she could eat what she wanted and still stay slim and beautiful and perfect like Anne or Ruby. But things are the way things are. Nothing can be done about that. 

Diana will be beautiful. She just has to stay in control.

~

Spring hits Avonlea with a simple and glorious flourish. The sun shows her face with increasing frequency and warmth, beckoning all sorts of life awake from its winter nap, and soon the buds decorating every tree will blossom spectacularly and fill the air with its sweet, kind scent. Springtime brings with it promises of new life and opportunity, a fresh harvest yet untouched by the hardships of summer and fall. Those hardships will come, whatever they may be, but for now the change is enough.

No one appreciates spring’s promise quite as much as Avonlea’s oldest students, sitting in a circle in a far corner of the schoolhouse most of them had studied in their whole lives, the spot intentionally picked to be next to a large window looking out onto the surrounding landscape, growing more beautiful each day. Though years before, such things would not have mattered so much, ever since the arrival of the imaginative and fanciful Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, a little bit of romance could be found inside each of her peers.

Today, however, Diana does not feel very romantic. While her friends enthusiastically discuss the Queen’s Academy entrance exams in a year’s time, as well as the class Ms. Stacy is to organize to study for the exams the following term, Diana sits silently and picks at an apple she will not eat, a distant look in her eyes.

“Diana, do you think you’ll join the Queen’s class?”

Ruby’s words jolt Diana back to the here and now. “No, I don’t think I will,” she says. “Mother intends to start my finishing at term’s end.”

When her friends are taking their entrance exams, Diana will likely be preparing for her wedding. She swallows thickly and places the apple back in her basket.

Her statement puts the rest of her friends, seconds ago so excited, into a somber mood and instantly, guilt tugs at her side.

“Besides,” Diana is quick to continue, putting on a grin to hide how miserable the thought makes her feel. “I couldn’t pass the exams if I studied for twenty years.”

Jane Andrews gives her a sympathetic smile and squeezes her hand firmly. Ruby, embarrassed to have introduced the topic, asks of the group, “Do you think that you’ll pursue a First or Second Class license?”

Moody Spurgeon says, “I’ll be lucky if I manage a Second Class. Think of all the extra work that comes with a First class. I couldn’t do it.”

Charlie Sloane nods along and Josie Pye says, “I could if I wanted to, but what’s the point? I won’t be using whatever license I get, anyway.”

Diana fights back the unladylike urge to roll her eyes, but Anne has no such inhibition and shows her distaste plainly.

“Well, I for one have the ambition and the sense to go for it,” Anne says frankly, her head held high. “I don’t care that it’s difficult. The challenge excites me.”

“I agree,” Gilbert Blythe says, glancing at Anne with warm eyes that she markedly will not return. “If you’re going to do something, why do it halfway?”

Anne shoots back some backhanded compliment as a reply, but Diana’s mind is elsewhere. In a moment of weakness, she imagines a life for herself where she could pursue higher education. Perhaps she would attend Queen’s Academy like the rest of her peers, and teach music, or perhaps she would study music composition and travel the world with her piano, like Aunt Josephine’s friend Cécile Chaminade.

Before she can delve too deep into the fantasy, she shakes the thought from her head. “How much longer until lunch is over?” she asks Charlie.

His pocket watch pops open. “Only a few more minutes.”

A weight lifts from Diana’s shoulders with the knowledge that soon, she will be able to breathe.

Jane says, “Well, at least that means the day is half-over and it’s only a few more hours before we can go home again.”

The other students in their circle mutter in agreement and chatter among themselves.

“On a usual day I would feel disappointed about leaving school, but today the trees and sky look ever so lovely that I can barely wait to visit them,” Anne says, unafraid to hide her fanciful notions of beauty. “Say you’ll join me, Diana?”

Diana gives her friend a sad smile. “Really, Anne, I wish I could. But I must be home immediately after school ends. I’m being measured for a new dress.”

Anne sighs, her fingers mindlessly ghosting over the straight sleeves of her own dress. “If you must so break my heart, at least take my last plum puff as a sign of my unwavering affection.”

She moves to pass the pastry to her friend, but Diana puts up a hand to stop her. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“Marilla has dozens more at home, believe me,” Anne says. “Take it, go on. You’ve barely eaten anything all day.”

Heat rushing to her face, Diana reluctantly obliges but places the plum puff in her lunch basket. “I’ll eat it later. I’m sure it’s delicious, Anne; give Marilla my thanks.”

Anne beams at Diana. “I will, if you promise to tell me every detail of the dress at school tomorrow. Every last one.” Her hands fly to her face and she gasps. “Oh, Diana! Do you think the skirt will be long?”

She considers this then shakes her head. “I don’t believe so. It’s just that a few of my dresses don’t fit anymore.” To hear the words aloud and know they are true satisfies her for the present moment. “They might fit you, though. Would you like to try them on?”

Anne frowns and shakes her head, looking solemn. “They wouldn’t fit me, I’m sure. I don’t have wonderful womanly curves like you, Diana. I couldn’t stand the disappointment of seeing your stunning dresses on someone as plain as I am.”

Though Anne means her words- “womanly curves”- as a compliment, they hit Diana right in the chest and her breathe catches for just one moment. But she swallows her anxiety and tells herself that she will not get upset about it now. Soon her waistline will be as small as Anne’s and she will be more than beautiful. She will be perfect.

Diana stands up a bit shakily but as usual the dizziness lasts only a few seconds. “I’m certain you would look beautiful in them, Anne, just as you always do. Shall we go back to our seats? Ms. Stacey is sure to ring the bell soon.”

Anne nods, takes Diana’s extended hand, and rises from the floor. She dusts off her skirt then follows her friend back to the bench they have shared for almost three years. Their next lesson covers something in geometry, a hated subject by Anne and one Diana is not overly fond of herself. But, just as Jane said, soon the school day is over. The second as Ms. Stacy dismisses them, the children rush from their seats to grab coats, lunch baskets, and milk jars from the stream before running off in all different directions to their respective homes or destinations.

Slate and basket draped over one shoulder, Anne gives Diana a one-armed hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my dearest Diana.”

Diana gladly returns the hug and kisses Anne on the cheek. “I’ll be sure to remember every detail of my dress to recount the tale for you then.”

“You had better.” Anne smiles and tightly grasps the hand of her bosom friend. Then she is off to God knows where and Diana is left alone in front of the old school house to start her journey home, a journey that seems to take longer with each passing day.

The air chills slightly with the oncoming afternoon and evening, a sudden wind passing through the woods and shaking the trees. The gust brings a snowfall of flowers that catch in her hair, which would be beautiful and romantical if Anne were there and if Diana didn’t suddenly feel lightheaded and nauseous.

Leaning against a tree for support, she squeezes her eyes shut, breathes slowly, and waits for the feeling to pass. Eventually, it does, and she reaches home without having to stop again, but not before dumping out her lunch a few feet from the path that leads out of the trees. It’s an act as regrettable as it is necessary, much like her spells of weakness. They are mere side effects of the control Diana exerts over herself. Well worth it.

The dressmaker, Ms. Clarke, arrives at the Barry’s only minutes after Diana, so the younger girl only has time to pull butter out of the ice box to soften before she must stand still in front of her mother’s mirror for nearly a half-hour. Ms. Clarke, who has made dresses for the Barrys since her mother and father came to Avonlea, is old and opinionated, and does not fail to comment as she pokes and prods with her pins and needles.

“Eliza, I don’t know what you’ve been feeding this girl,” Ms. Clarke says, her teeth clenched on a few spare pins. She pulls harshly on Diana’s sleeve. “But children her age are supposed to  _ grow _ , not shrink. Her waste is three inches less than last time.”

“Perhaps she has grown taller,” her mother offers.

“Best to keep her under a watchful eye. Men don’t want to marry a girl with a boyish figure,” Ms. Clarke advises.

Diana abhors how they speak of her like she isn’t present, and she abhors how she looks in the mirror. The tape measurer kept in her bedside table tells her that she is growing smaller, but her reflection reveals a bloated, pudgy, and tired girl even though Diana has worked relentlessly. It hasn’t been enough. Her eyes sting with frustration and hopelessness.

She will try harder.

Thankfully, Ms. Clarke finishes her work quickly. As soon as she is gone for good, Diana asks her mother, “May I please use the kitchen? There’s a new raspberry tart recipe I’d like to try.”

“Have you finished your needlework?”

Diana nods, though her needlework sits half-done on her bed.

“You may go.”

Once in the kitchen, Diana pulls out all the different ingredients that her recipe requires and places them on the island table.

Flour. Eggs. Sugar. Butter. Water. Raspberry jam Ms. Rachel Lynde made the previous fall. Several metal bowls and wooden mixing spoons. Wood for the oven, which she places inside and lights afire, so the oven will be warm in time.

Baking is one of the few things she and her mother agree on. While Ms. Barry thinks it conducive to home-making even though she leaves most cooking to Mary Joe, Diana views it as a method of catharsis, to satisfy her need to be near food with her refusal to eat it.

Diana has not eaten in three days. It is the longest she has made it so far.

Over the course of a few hours, she makes almost triple the batch she had originally set out to make. She keeps finishing one batch, then starting all over again once the urge to consume hits. Her mother interrupts her right as she intends on making a fourth, her eyes wide.

“Good heavens, Diana! What sort of havoc have you wreaked upon this kitchen?”

Diana stops in her tracks and puts the flour back in the cabinet where it belongs. “I’m sorry, Mother, I suppose I got rather carried away.”

“I didn’t know we had this much butter and eggs in the house,” her mother says, running a finger over the spare parchment that once wrapped the butter.

“Young Mary Joe churned more yesterday. And the eggs were a gift from the Cuthberts.” Diana fiddles with the end of her apron, utterly unequipped to handle Eliza Barry’s scorn today. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“That you will.” Her mother huffs, taking in the damage. “And what do you suppose you’ll do with—” Her forehead creases as she silently counts the pastries. “—seventy raspberry tarts?”

Diana silently shrugs. She thinks her mother might continue her tirade, but instead the woman just places an exasperated hand to her hair and sighs.

“Well, you might as well take a basket to the Cuthberts and Gillises while it’s still light out, for we certainly don’t have room for all of them here.”

Diana nods and her mother retreats, muttering to herself.

She grabs a basket and lines it with a cloth, then neatly stacks the raspberry tarts inside and wonders if she can physically manage the walk to Green Gables and the Gillises’. But judging by her mother’s stern look, she doesn’t have a choice, so she wipes the flour from her cheek and apron, adorns her coat and hat once again, and heads off towards her destination.

This walk is infinitely harder than the one from school, even though the distance is much shorter, and Diana must stop and rest no less than three times before she finally reaches Green Gables.

Thunder booms in the distance as she knocks on the green door of Anne’s home, warning of rain. She curses herself that she did not think to grab an umbrella and prays that she will not have to stop so often that she gets caught in the downpour.

Marilla answers the door. “Oh, hello, Diana, how lovely to see you,” she says warmly. “What brings you here this evening? Shall I fetch Anne?”

“There’s no need, Ms. Cuthbert. I’ve only dropped by to give you this.” She pulls one of the cloths full of the raspberry tarts. “I made too many and thought you would appreciate them here. They’re raspberry tarts.”

Marilla takes the cloth. “Thank you very much, Diana. I’m sure we will. Would you like to come in for a bit? The sky doesn’t look very inviting for your walk home.”

A warm place to sit and rest would be welcome; black has started to cloud her vision and Diana knows what is soon to come. But Diana also knows if she reveals how she really feels, it will do nothing but worry Marilla and Anne.

“No, but thank you, Ms. Cuthbert. I must be home soon, but please give Anne my love.”

Marilla nods, obliging, and waves Diana goodbye.

She turns and walks as fast as she can down the steps and across the yard, hoping the storm will hold off until she returns home, but only manages a few steps before it starts to pour. To make matters worse, her head pounds severely and she can tell she only has seconds more before she all-out collapses, so she picks up her pace. Soon she learns this is a mistake, as the fog in her brain, in combination with the sudden, hard rain, jumble her movements and her footing-as well as her sight- falter and give out right in front of the Cuthberts’ barn.

There she stays, miserable and cold and wet in the mud but unable to move, trying to catch her breath, until a voice calls out to her, “Miss Barry? Why are you laying in the mud?”

It’s difficult but she manages to lift her head to see Jerry Baynard standing in the doorway of the tack room, pitchfork in hand. Mortified tears sting her eyes as she struggles to lift the rest of her body from the mud, fatigue weighing heavy in her bones. “I fell down. Help me, please?”

Jerry drops his pitchfork and rushes to her side, placing his hands on her arms and boosting her upright. He tries to let go, but she sways and latches back on to his arm for support, her eyes clenched shut.

“Hang on as tight as you need. I can handle it,” Jerry says, no judgement at her soiled state in his words. “Let’s go to the barn,  _ oui? _ ”

She nods and he leads her there, gently lowering her onto a bale of hay. “My basket,” she says lamely when she finally opens her eyes again. “Could you—”

“Of course.”

Jerry runs back out into the rain and grabs the basket while Diana leans her head back on the wood panels of the barn and futilely brushes at the mud on her skirt. A second later he returns and hands her the basket. She takes it, nodding thankfully as he uses a dirty cloth to dry the water from his eyes, then peers inside to check the damage done to the pastries. They’re slightly damp, which she supposes doesn’t matter much since a trip to the Gillises’ house is out of the question now anyway.

“Would you like one?” Diana asks Jerry, who leans against the wall watching her curiously, his arms folded against his chest. “The rain got to them a bit, I’m afraid.”

But he reaches into the basket and removes one anyway, immediately biting down. She watches, mesmerized as he chews, living vicariously through him. The tanginess of raspberry jelly and the simple sweetness of sugar cookies are tastes she knows as abstract concepts but cannot solidly recall, even though it hasn’t been that long since they graced her lips.

“That was very good,” Jerry says after swallowing. He sits a couple feet away from her on the hay.

“I made them myself,” she admits. 

One side of Jerry’s mouth twitches up in a half-smile, showing a flash of his teeth. “You’re very talented.”

His words give her a thrill.

“Have another one, then,” Diana urges, extending the basket his way. “Have a few.”

He removes a couple from the basket almost reluctantly, like he’s puzzled by her enthusiasm, and shoves two or three into his pocket, but leaves one for the moment. This time when he eats the pastry he notices her rapt attention. “I assure you, they are  _ très bon _ ,” he says, perhaps mistaking her notice for concern. Jerry stands up once he’s done and brushes the crumbs from his pants. “I must work more.  _ Merci _ — for the tarts.”

“ _ Je t’en prie _ ,” Diana replies.

Jerry nods in acknowledgement and retrieves his pitchfork to start shoveling hay once again in the larger chamber of the barn. She can still see him from her seat, see the way he throws his whole body into the task at hand with no mind for anything else. Things look so effortless for him. He is strong, having grown tall and muscular and into himself after years of farming full-time.  

And she is weak as she stares at the basket on her lap, full of what she is certain Anne would call “forbidden fruit” if the situation was reversed. Her hands itch to pick one up, to open the sandwiched cookies and lick the sour jelly from each half. Saliva floods her mouth at the thought, but she quickly shakes the notion from her head.

But she still must walk the ten minutes back home alone; as much as she might need the help, she couldn’t possibly ask Jerry to accompany her all that way. One raspberry tart wouldn’t be so bad. A warranted treat after three days of impeccable self-control.

Outside the barn, the rain slows to halt and if she is to make it home before dark, she needs to depart now. So she rises from the bale of hay and straightens her hat and skirt, muddy they may be, closing her eyes at the usual wave of dizziness that washes over her. Thankfully, it fades after a second and she approaches Jerry.

Diana clears her throat. “Thank you for your help, Jerry.”

The urge to devour grows inside her and she’s incredibly aware that soon, she won’t be able to resist it. 

He shrugs, pausing his work. “I can walk you home, if you want.”

“No, I’m fine. I just… tripped is all. No harm done.” Diana looks down. “Anyway, thank you,” she repeats. 

“Really, it was no problem. Have a good night, Ms. Barry.”

“It’s Diana,” she feels the need to say. Her face burns. “ _ Au revoir _ .”

Jerry resumes with the hay. “ _ Salut _ .” He smiles and adds smugly, “Diana.”

~

With a steady stride that nears a run, Diana exits the barn and only makes it through the fence before she reaches her hand into the basket and grabs a raspberry tart. It’s all she can do not to stuff it in her mouth all at once and her fingers tremble in anticipation; she takes a small, slow bite and softly moans at the taste.

The pastry vanishes in an instant and soon all that is left are crumbs in her palm and the same hollowness at her very center. She does not feel better. The only thing eating the tart has brought her is guilt, heavy and poisonous guilt that stings her eyes with tears and consumes her mind.

She sobs, loud and ugly and loses all resolve as she finds herself reaching back endlessly into the basket for another bite, just another bite. Out of breath, she tries to stop but her hand has a mind of its own. Crumbs cover her apron and jelly covers her mouth, but she doesn’t notice, just keeps eating and eating until there is no more left to eat. 

When she thrusts her hand in the basket and finds she finished all twenty of the tarts meant for the Gillises, mortification and horror run through her body as her mind stops reeling to process the horrible deed she just committed.

Diana almost breaks down right there in the middle of the road.

And then she is running, running along the Lake of Shining Waters and up the walkway to her home, through the door and past her astonished mother (“Diana! My word. Whatever has happened to your dress?”), and into the cabinet where the Barrys keep their medical supplies. Her stretched stomach straining, she rummages through a metal bin of glass jars until she is victorious and finds the one she is looking for: a mostly used container of ipecac, the same bottle Anne used to induce Minnie May to vomit years ago when her little sister contracted croup. It contains one last dose of the

She floods with relief. Yes, this will do. This will do quite well.

Before her mother can find her and surmise what is happening, Diana uncorks the bottle and swallows all its contents, hoping it will be enough to rid her stomach of the filth. The ipecac tastes horrid and rotten, but it’s a taste she can withstand if the results are as promised. She follows the medicine with a glass of water.

Ten minutes must pass before the syrup takes full effect, so she takes a deep breath and tries to appear as normal as she can when she retreats to the parlor where her mother sits.

“I’m sorry for my hasty entrance,” Diana says, her tongue and throat growing heavy and harsh. “I thought I would be sick.”

Her mother puts down her needlework and asks, “Well, has the feeling passed?”

Diana shrugs and wrings her hands together, anxious to move in preparation for what’s to come.  “Mostly, though it comes and goes.”

“If you feel you will be sick again, try to do it outside. Your father is sleeping upstairs.”

She nods- that had been her plan, anyway- and exits their house to find a good spot to sit, as once the vomiting starts, it will not end for a while. Planting herself down in a small patch of grass by a tree, Diana sits and waits.

Strange, how calm she remains about the whole thing. Calm but desperate. It’s sticky business but beats the alternative of keeping the heavy, heavy food she’s sure has already caused damage.

Soon, her gag reflex starts to twitch and perform a dance unlike anything she has ever felt before. She scrambles to get to her hands and knees and pull her hair back further from her face with her ribbon before the waves of nausea start and don’t stop. 

The first minute passes and she is satisfied that the ipecac has done its job. 

By the second minute, she is throwing up mostly liquids, the tea she drank at breakfast. 

But by the third minute she is dry heaving uncontrollably. There isn’t a thing left in her stomach to purge herself of, so she is stuck there, retching and gagging and choking on air, barely able to catch her breathe. Her eyes water tremendously, sending tears down her cheeks from the effort of it all.

Minutes or maybe hours later, the heaving finally eases and Diana grasps for breath and relax, feeling exhausted and spent. Her stomach aches, but at least it is empty, and it is this thought that makes Diana stand up. Red vomit stains her muddy dress, blending with the brown from the Cuthbert’s and from the wet mud she knelt in.

Her muddy dress now has red vomit stains among the brown, so she takes her apron off, bunching it up in her fist and hiding it behind her back, before heading inside.

“Did you get sick?” Her mother asks her.

“I did, but I feel better now. Think I ate something bad.”

And it’s not a lie. As confused as her mind may be, there’s also an unexpected vigor coursing through her veins at the accomplishment. She may have lost control over food, but an overwhelming relief accompanied the strategic exorcizing of her stomach’s contents. Emptiness envelopes Diana to a degree it never has, and she relishes in it, feeling much like she does after perfecting a particularly difficult piano piece.

But the relief does not stick with her. Guilt and exhaustion replace it and crash down that afternoon, ruining any chances she had of completing her schoolwork.

Diana skips dinner, goes to bed early. Her mother lets her under the guise of illness.

There will be no next time, she swears to herself as she lies shivering under all the blankets she owns. Her throat is raw, and her stomach still clenches and turns. Her eyes ache to cry but she threw up too much water.

But if there is, she will find a different way to relieve herself of the burden. She will ask Gilbert Blythe, burgeoning doctor, about it tomorrow at school.

~

By the time it’s dark and Mr. Cuthbert dismisses Jerry for the day, the storm has completely stopped, though water still weighs down the canopies he must cross underneath on his trek home, and their leaves drip onto his shirt, emulating a light drizzle. 

It’s June but his clothes, damp with rain and sweat from a long day on the farm, cling to his skin and chill under the breeze leftover from the storm. Relief floods through Jerry when, after over an hour of walking, his family’s shop and their home above it becomes visible among the other buildings in town. He jogs the last few steps and breathes deeply when he enters the shop door. 

The smells of glue and leather and something in the oven upstairs hit his nose all at once. The mix of aromas could be more pleasant, but they’re all he’s ever known and they mean home to him. 

Behind the counter, his father polishes a boot with a dirty rag. Upon hearing the door open, he looks up and smiles at Jerry, laying the shoe down in front of him to receive his son.

“ _ Allô _ _ , _ Jerry,” his father says, embracing him. He ruffles Jerry’s hair then goes back to the shoe. “How was the farm today? Did they feed you well?”

One solid meal each day is a condition of Jerry’s place at Green Gables. 

Jerry approaches the counter to watch his father work. “It was fine. Ms. Cuthbert always gives me enough for lunch.” Then he remembers Diana’s gift. “One of Anne’s friends gave me some pastries. I thought I could split them between the girls.”

The ends of his father’s mouth tilt up. “I think they would like that very much.”

Alphonse Baynard is a man of humble means. As a cobbler, he can’t provide his family with much, especially with large shoe factories on the mainland driving out his business. Still, he does his best with what profits he derives from shoe and leather repair. They barely scrape by most months but when they have an extra, it goes to Jerry’s four younger sisters: Lanore, Satine, Chloe, and Margot. 

Lanore is five and grows more curious every day. She badly wants to do what none of her siblings could and go to school, and it’s looking like she might be able to go, at least for a while. None of them have the heart to tell her that if she does go to school, she won’t stay for more than a few years. Jerry hopes she can attend long enough to learn how to read. 

Satine is eight and impossible to manage. Their mother tries her best to reign her in, but Satine would rather run around with the boys in their neighborhood, playing games all day, than work in the family garden or help their mother with housework. One day their parents will force her to wear a dress instead of the trousers she favors, but for now they will let her be a child. 

Then there’s Chloe, who is ten going on twenty. She used to be much like Satine and Lanore, but now she assists the town seamstress and the work has turned her serious, more mature than a ten year-old girl should be. She often stays out late, later than Jerry even, not even returning from work most nights. 

And finally, Margot. At fourteen, Margot is the sibling closest in age to Jerry and they’ve been inseparable all their lives. She’s the one he talked to when Nathaniel and Mr. Dunlop robbed him and he lost the Cuthberts’ money, and later when the same borders terrorized him on a daily basis. Margot, with her direct and thoughtful wisdom, didn’t judge him as he cried and encouraged him to go to Mr. Cuthbert about it. One day, when Jerry leaves his family, it is Margot he will miss the most.

“Is Maman upstairs?” Jerry asks.

His father nods. “Margot is helping her with tonight’s supper.”

“Do you know what it is?” Jerry asks, his stomach rumbling with hunger. 

“Pâté chinois,” his father answers. “Or so she says.”

His mouth starts to salivate imagining the creamy potatoes and warm beef that await him. Jerry kisses his father’s cheek and bids him  _ adieu  _ for now before jogging up the stairs, eager to shed his damp clothes. 

When he opens the door to the single room their family occupies, his mother, Lanore, and Satine greet him warmly. Margot, from her crouched position tending to the wood in the oven, waves briefly before going back to the fire. Satine darts towards him, and attaches herself to his legs, making him stumble back towards the oven. 

He removes her from his legs and bends his knees so they’re at the same level and tousles her dark hair. “Did you give Maman  trouble today,  _ ma coccinelles _ ?”

Satine crinkles her nose and grins. “ _ Bien sûr que oui _ ,” she whispers. 

Lanore runs off to play with Satine as his mother approaches him and says, “When does she not?”

He stands up and kisses each of her cheeks. “ _ Bonjour, maman. _ ”

“ _ Bonjour, mon petit caneton, _ ” she says, returning the gesture and hugging him tight. When she releases him, she remarks, “You are soaking wet! Go change before you catch your death.”

Jerry obeys his mother and strips his coat and leather working pants. He’s careful to remove the tarts before discarding the clothes, placing them in a discrete drawer to share with his sisters after supper. “Papa told me it’s pâté chinois tonight,” he says while digging in a trunk for something to wear. 

“ _ Oui _ ,” his mother says. 

He pulls on a pair of thin linen pants and one of his father’s ratty old work shirts, ridden with too many holes to wear in public. Moseying over to Margot at the oven, he bends over to smell the cooking dish, but Margot pushes him back away from the stove. 

“You’ll burn yourself,” she warns him strictly, but her tone and smile tell him she’s not as serious as their mother would be about it. 

“ _ Bonjour  _ to you, too, Margot,” he says wryly, a smirk riding up one side of his mouth. 

They embrace and kiss each other’s cheeks. 

“When will it be done?” Jerry asks Margot, gesturing to the pâté chinois. “I’m starving.”

The dish in the oven doesn’t look big enough for the seven of them, but the Baynard family has lived through worse. He can recall a particular summer right after Lanore was born when the town’s potato crop failed. The whole community suffered immensely, even those who weren’t farmers. 

For Alphonse and Valerie Baynard, the already hard task of feeding seven children turned impossible. He sometimes forgets how much more difficult life was before Simon and Gabriel started work, and Corinne got married, and the three moved out of their small town house. 

“Be patient. It will be ready soon, I hope. Once Papa is done downstairs I think we’ll eat,” Margot says, closing the oven door and standing up straight. She grabs his hand and drags him over to the bed the Baynard children all share. Margot keeps a small box underneath the bed frame where she keeps special items. “Maman  sent me out today and I found a newspaper on the ground. I tried to read it, but got stuck on a few words.”

She shows him the article, but he’s only able to help with around half of the words. Ever since Anne started teaching him to read and write two years before, he’s brought the lessons home to his sisters, Margot taking a shining to it in particular. Still, some things get lost in the transition from Anne to Jerry to her, so he can only help her so much. He’s still learning himself, after all. 

He cherishes these small, fleeting moments, but most of his time is spent at the Cuthberts. It seems that as soon as the sit down to look at the newspaper, their father enters the room and supper is ready. 

It turns out, he was right. The dish, though made from filling potatoes, beef, and corn, isn’t enough for the seven of them to all be satisfied and full at the end of the day. No one mentions it; the children all know how sensitive a subject it is to their parents, who already feel guilty enough. Instead, Margot, Jerry, and their father have an unspoken agreement to serve the little ones and Valerie first so they’ll go to bed full. They need it more than he does.

Jerry just eats his pâté chinois in silence, dealing with the residual hunger by telling himself that once he goes to sleep, it won’t be too long until he’s at the Cuthbert’s again for breakfast or lunch. 

After supper ends and the table is cleaned and cleared, Jerry removes the tarts from the drawer and shows them to his sisters. The way their faces light up makes the hunger rumbling in his stomach worth it. Chloe isn’t home yet, and probably won’t be home tonight, so each sister gets one full tart. 

“They’re a little soft, but still good,” he says, handing Lanore and Satine their pastries. Lanore gives him and toothy grin and Satine actually squeals, before they both run off to eat their dessert. Sweets are not something found in their house often. 

Jerry gives the last tart to Margot. She takes it, only to split and offer one half back to him. 

He shakes his head, throwing up a hand to refuse. “No, it’s for you. I already had two today.”

But she’s insistent. “Come on, Jerry. I saw how much you ate at dinner. You must still be hungry.”

After a second of hesitation, his hunger gets the best of him and he pops it into his mouth. They sit on the edge of the bed, slowly savoring the sweet taste. 

“Tell Ms. Cuthbert  _ merci _ for me,” Margot says, dusting a few crumbs off her skirt. 

Jerry swallows the last of the raspberry tart, then shrugs and says, “It was actually one of Anne’s friends. Diana Barry. She gave them to me.”

This immediately snags Margot’s attention. Ever perceptive, she raises an eyebrow and says, “You must be friends with her, too, if she’s giving you sweets like this.”

He ignores the hot flush that rushes to his cheeks. “We are friendly, I suppose.”

Margot smiles knowingly. “Is she very beautiful?”

“She’s rich. Have you ever seen an ugly rich lady?” 

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen a lot of rich ladies. So is she beautiful?”

He’s silent for a moment, and then says, “Of course she is. And she speaks French, too.” 

Margot makes a pained expression, like she’s trying her best not to laugh.

“You’re making fun of me!” he exclaims, trying to push her off the bed. She’s quick to her feet and doesn’t even stumble. 

At the commotion, their mother scolds from her bed, “Be careful! You’ll break a leg!”

“Sorry, Maman ,” Jerry and Margot say. 

He turns to her says quietly, “You aren’t allowed to make fun of me like that! I’ve seen how you look at the baker’s son.”

Margot sits back down, only on the opposite side of where she sat before. “You’ve less seen me look at the baker’s son and more at the cakes they display in the windows.” Placing a gentle hand on his arm, she shakes her head and says seriously, “Just be careful around this rich girl, okay? You know what people like that think of people like us.”

As much as it pains Jerry to think about, Margot is right, as always. He doubts Diana’s rich, uppity parents would approve of her friendship with another dirty, poor French boy who can barely read. 

“I’ll be fine,” he swears. There’s this attraction between them, has been for some time. He can’t deny that. Something might happen between them, but likely nothing will, and he accepted that long ago. But for now, he’s satisfied just to make her smile once in a while. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i'm blown away with all of the positive feedback this little fic has received so far! i want to thank everyone who has left kudos or comments. i realize this is a super niche fic but i'm so glad that y'all have enjoyed it. shoutout to phoebe and gus for being the best support system a gal could ask for.
> 
> again, if you're triggered by eating disorders at all, please don't read this. you are worth recovery.
> 
> warnings for this chapter: graphic description of bingeing/purging, depression

Diana, Anne, Gilbert, and Jane sit in a circle under a large tree in the school yard. It’s recess for the younger students, and the children dart back and forth around them playing games, but the four use the time to study for a test Ms. Stacy promised to give them the following morning. Jane, seated on a large root that sticks out of the ground, holds an arithmetic book in her hands and quizzes her peers on the information from it.

The sun is out today and the brilliant light strains Diana’s eyes.

Normally, their group would be much larger, including all the girls and boys. But Ruby Gillis and Josie Pye are both out with chickenpox, a malady thankfully avoided by everyone else, and the rest of the boys (except for Gilbert) are helping Ms. Stacy with some sort of heavy lifting in the supply closet.

Jane asks them all an arithmetic question and they go to work, trying to solve the problem on their slates. Anne finishes first, followed by Gilbert, and then Diana.

“The variable  _ x  _ is eight,” Jane announces. “Good job, Anne and Diana.”

Jane will make a suitable teacher one day.

Anne beams at Diana and squeezes her hand. “You can’t say that you aren’t smart, my beautiful Diana. You’ve hardly missed one question yet.”

Diana shrugs and brushes the praise off. “I can only do arithmetic because of the piano. The multiplying and dividing is much like thinking about time signatures in music.”

“That makes you all the more intelligent to me. The world would be desolate, dreary place without your talent in it.” Anne giggles.

Gilbert wipes the work on his slate away with a sleeve, frustrated. “Could I see the text, Jane? I don’t understand how I keep getting these wrong,” he says, even though he’s been correct more than half the time. Gilbert, like Anne, is the type of person who isn’t used to academic failure and she can see that it eats at him.

After only a second of scanning the book, he hands it back to Jane gracelessly. “I still don’t understand.” His voice rises. “How am I supposed to get through medical school if I can’t do simple arithmetic?”

Diana frowns at his aggravations; though he means nothing by it, Diana is offended. The words leave her lips before she can stop them. “At least you have the choice, as so many of us don’t,” she snaps, then immediately covers her mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry, that was rude.”

Jane, Anne, and Gilbert look surprised at her little outburst. Diana so rarely lets her anger show, but lately it’s been harder to keep her emotions at bay. Yet another show of weakness that humiliates and shames her.

“It’s okay,” Gilbert says, sighing. “I’m just being dramatic. You’re right—I should be more thankful that I can go to school at all.”

Diana nods miserably, her face warm. When recess ends a few minutes later, Anne pulls her aside before they enter the schoolhouse.

“Are you alright? Usually I’m the one getting all worked up about Gilbert Blythe, not you.”

The fact that she’s admitting it means Anne is serious in her question. Diana responds, “I’m fine, I swear. I’ve just been getting these headaches recently and they can make me a little cross.”

Anne scans Diana’s face carefully. “Are you sure that’s all? You’ve seemed upset lately whenever we talk about Queen’s Academy. That’s it, isn’t it? You want to go to school, but your mother and father won’t let you.”

Tears sting Diana’s eyes and she looks away, trying to retain her composure. But nothing gets by Anne and her friend pulls her close.

“Oh, Diana,” Anne says despondently, sounding as miserable as Diana feels. “I don’t blame you for a second.”

Diana lets herself wallow in self-pity for just a moment, resting her head on Anne’s shoulder, before she pulls away and wipes at her eyes. “It’s not just school. My mother wants me to marry soon, but I feel so unready. What if he is mean and boring and horrible? What if he never grows to love me the way that Gilbert—”

“Despite what everyone seems to think, I don’t love Gilbert Blythe and he doesn’t love me,” Anne says firmly. “But you needn’t fear, Diana, because you are the most beautiful, dearest girl in the world and any man who is lucky enough to marry you will fall instantly in love and will answer your every beck and call. I know it’s true.”

These days Diana doesn’t feel very beautiful. But she recognizes the heart behind what Anne said and gives her a tight hug. When they release, she breathes deeply and they walk hand-in-hand back into the schoolhouse.

Later, once lessons are over, Diana finds Gilbert to apologize to him again, giving him the same excuse she first gave Anne.

“What kind of headaches?” he asks curiously. “I’ve been reading about them in my research.”

“Well, it’s the worst in the morning, but they continue throughout the day, like a dull throbbing pain on my forehead.” She pauses, then adds, “Oh, and bright light hurts my eyes.”

“I see.” Gilbert looks distant, deep in thought.

“So what’s my diagnosis, Dr. Blythe?”

“You probably just need to eat and drink more,” he finally decides. “Wish I knew more. Ask me after medical school.”

It’s nothing she didn’t already know, although she could be doing better with her water intake, especially since she expelled so much of it with the food.  

“Thank you anyway, Gilbert.”

The conversation reminds her of a question she wants to ask him, though. “I’ve been meaning to inquire about something, to see if you’ve read anything about it in your research so far.”

“Go ahead. If I can help, I will.”

She ruminates for a moment about the best way to phrase her question that will not raise suspicions regarding her intentions. “Recently we ran out of ipecac,” she starts. “I’ve been wondering, if it were needed to- to be sick, before we replaced it, is there anything we can do?”

“You want to know how to induce vomiting.” He shakes his head. “Sorry for being crass, but there’s really no clearer way to put it.”

“Well—yes. Minnie May is of the age where she will put almost anything in her mouth, and I’m a little worried she will eat the wrong thing one day.”

“That’s understandable,” Gilbert says. “Let me put it this way. Have you ever accidentally pushed a spoon too far into your mouth, and had it hit the back of your throat?”

Diana blinks, surprised by the simplicity of it all. She expected him to come up with a complex concoction made from mustard seed or molasses or onions or something equally repulsive. “Oh. That makes sense.”

He shrugs. “It’s not the prettiest way to do things, that’s for sure, but it will do in a pinch.”

But it sounds more bearable than the ipecac to Diana, whose throat and stomach still ache from the unneeded strain of the previous night. So she thanks Gilbert again and departs for home alongside Anne.

“Why on Earth were you talking to Gilbert Blythe?” Anne asks as they proceed, arm-in-arm, down the path that leads to their respective homes. Walking like that, with Anne for support, helps Diana to not feel quite so faint. “Not about me, I hope.”

“No, though would that be such a terrible thing? I apologized again for my rudeness earlier. I really can’t believe I said something like that.”

Anne laughs. “Your standards for rudeness are so incredibly low, my dear Diana. I believe I said more incriminating things to Gilbert Blythe within the first day of knowing him.”

The infamous slate incident meant to repel Gilbert from Anne Shirley-Cuthbert only cemented his admiration for the fiery redhead.

“Yes, I suppose, but my outburst was not so provoked, and we are older than we were then. I should know to hold my temper by now.” Diana looks down at her moving feet.

Anne raises her eyebrows and fixes Diana with an incredulous stare. “You’ve so rarely expressed your anger outwardly I had started to wonder if you even felt the emotion. Actually, I’m quite relieved that you do and believe that you are warranted this one. Agreed?”

“I suppose,” Diana says but her show of weakness still weighs on her mind. She sighs and changes the subject. “Anyway, that’s not all Gilbert Blythe and I discussed. I also told him about my headaches.”

She leaves out the third part of their conversation. The fork in the path that divides the girls is now in sight, meaning they only have a short while before their conversation must end.

“And what did the good doctor tell you?”

“That I should make sure I eat and drink more.”

“As much as it pains me to admit so, Gilbert is likely right. You have been looking thinner recently, though you are still divinely beautiful, of course.”

No. Being thin will make her divinely beautiful. Her efforts so far have been successful but she is far from done. She will keep pushing herself until— well. Until she looks in the mirror and approves of what she sees.

They reach the end of their shared path and stop to say goodbye. Anne embraces Diana tightly and she returns the gesture.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Diana tells her bosom friend and Anne nods, smiling.

“I will feel your absence most miserably until then, dearest Diana,” Anne says with her usual dramatic flair. They squeeze hands and then they’re off their separate ways, Anne to Green Gables with Marilla and Matthew and Jerry and all kinds of warmth, and Diana to her cold house to await her mother’s finishing.

She barely has entered the door before Eliza Barry starts. “Put your coat and school things down. Mary Joe has prepared us tea, and I shall teach you table manners.”

With a sense of foreboding dread at the pit of her stomach, Diana follows her orders and prays that the lesson will not include food, all the while wondering what manners her mother has left to teach her after sixteen years of near constant scrutiny. From the stairs she can already see a large assortment of scones and tarts and other pastries that must have taken Mary Joe hours to prepare alongside a hot teapot and teacups. Eliza Barry watches her descent intently.

Diana’s heartbeat quickens her breath turns shallow. She crosses the foyer and takes a seat next to her mother. “What first, Mother?”

Eliza launches into an explanation of the intricate world of adult tea time and customs, one emphasized in England, the peak of civilization according to her. Diana tries to listen attentively, but she’s being told so much information at once and the food in front of her grows more distracting and menacing by the minute. She doesn’t care what her mother is saying, not really; she just wants to know how much of this sugary, horrible food she is expected to eat and what her punishment will be for not eating it.

Finally, her mother instructs her to eat a scone in the manner which she described.

Diana’s head spins. “Mother, really. I’m not very hungry at all, and I’m still not feeling well, you know, from yesterday when I was sick. Could we perhaps just drink tea today?”

Her mother frowns, cross. “Heavens, child, one scone will not kill you. Proper ladies do not defy their mothers. Now take the bite and do it gracefully. Go on!”

Yesterday Diana had thought she would be able to control herself enough for one bite to be enough, but how quickly she lost her self-control. Today she doesn’t feel the strength to resist the scone’s temptation for long, especially since she also faces the scorn of Eliza Barry.

Terrified at her diminishing resolve but unable to stop herself, with a shaking hand Diana lifts the scone to her mouth and takes a small, tentative bite. While her mother comments on her etiquette, Diana finishes the scone as quickly as convention will allow before reaching into the basket to eat another. And then another. Shame darkens her face, but her body is no longer her own. It’s takes all her remaining willpower to slow down and eat the pastries at an acceptable rate instead of shoving them down her throat in rapid succession.

Eliza places a dainty hand over Diana’s outstretched arm. “I think that’s enough for now, isn’t it?”

Her cheeks burning, Diana throws down a half-eaten scone on her plate in disgust and tells her mother, “I suddenly feel very faint, Mother. May I step outside for some fresh air?”

Her mother inspects her up and down in mild apprehension. “I would imagine, after the way you just ate. I think that’s quite enough for now. We have much work to do later.” Eliza sighs. Diana loathes herself.  “Go.”

Once outside, Diana pulls her hair back in its bow and cleans her hands under the water pump. The scones, maybe six or seven in total, weigh her down as she chooses a spot close to the one from yesterday, far enough away from home that she won’t be seen or heard until she finishes.

It takes much longer to get rid of everything than it did to ingest it. But, she notes with sick satisfaction and relief, at least the method Gilbert described worked well.

~

In the weeks that follow, Diana becomes adept at eliciting the exact response she desires after eating almost anything. It allows her to adopt a shroud of normalcy before her change in habit could raise any meddling eyebrows. Her secret, the purging of filth from her body, grows closer to her than a friend ever could with its reassurance that her mistakes can be fixed, her weaknesses forgiven. It comforts her and her wasting frame like no person ever could.

So she will retreat further into herself until nothing is left and she is pure.

~

Reading is one of the few Earthly pleasures in which Diana still allows herself to partake, though her attention span has grown short as of late. So when Aunt Josephine offers to share her vast library with her and Anne provided they personally visit Charlottetown to collect the books, Diana instantly agrees. The only roadblock: Diana’s family, with their horse and carriage, are travelling to Summerside for business, which means if she truly wants to go (she does) she must procure her own transportation.

Upon informing an excited Anne of her predicament, her friend smiles and, of course, details a fully thought-out plan despite only hearing of their circumstances seconds ago. “I’m certain Matthew and Marilla would let us take ours,” she says and then her smile drops. “So long as we find a boy to accompany us on our journey—though that rule vexes me considerably. I believe I have proven myself more than capable by now.”

Anne huffs, frustrated, but Diana understands Matthew and Marilla’s caution.

“Perhaps Jerry would be willing,” Diana suggests softly, thinking of lean muscles and tan skin and brown eyes.

“Probably he would be,” Anne says. “But, believe me dear Diana, he is endlessly irritating on long journeys and never ceases to sing for the entire duration of travel. So we will take Jerry as a last resort. There  _ must _ be someone else.”

Diana raises an eyebrow. “What about Gilbert Blythe?” she asks slyly.

Anne balks.

They take Jerry to Charlottetown that Saturday.

Undeterred by Diana’s presence, Jerry sings jovially while driving the horse and buggy. Anne crosses her arms like a child and apologizes to Diana, who finds his singing amusing more than anything else.

“Are you singing  _ V'la l'bon vent _ ?” she asks him.

Jerry pauses his song to answer, “ _ Oui _ . My  _ maman  _ sings this song to the little ones when they are upset. T me, it makes the drive go faster.” He eyes her curiously. “You know it?”

“My music tutor gave me a whole lesson on French-Canadian folk songs. I remember  _ V'la l'bon vent  _ because I was told it has over a hundred verses. Is that true?”

Jerry shrugs and clicks his tongue at Belle. “No. Well, maybe. I know six or seven. I think my maman knows more, though.”

“I wish you wouldn’t encourage him, Diana,” Anne remarks. “It will only make things worse.”

Diana does not relent as she usually does. “I don’t mind the singing. I think Jerry has a nice voice.”

He smiles at that, then shoots Anne a smug look, and something stirs within her. It’s easy with him around to think of the first time she ate too much and purge it all, especially with the role he played in the situation, which should make her want to steer clear of the farmhand. But it’s also easy to see how he could make her lost in the consumption of something else.

He flashes his warm brown eyes her way and her face grows warm.

“Well, I’d at least prefer it if we could discuss something else,” Anne asserts, her nose high in the air. “Why are we talking about Jerry’s singing when we could be discussing these beautiful fields of flowers?” She gestures to the fields of alfalfa that line the road. “Isn’t springtime absolutely breathtaking? In fact, those flowers remind me of you, Diana, since they are so bold and blue, and blue favors you.”

The comment puts her in a sour mood. To Diana, bold means large and noticeable and she’s made it her life’s mission to be neither of those things. She nods and thanks Anne and is quiet for the rest of the trip until they arrive at Josephine Barry’s large home.

Jerry stays back to water and feed Belle while the girls meet with Diana’s aunt. They emerge from the house, books in hand, Diana with three, and of course Anne with many, many more.

Jerry raises his eyebrows at the amount Anne carries in her arms. “Where will we put all those?” he asks. “They will just fall off the back.”

It’s a reasonable question but Anne is nothing if not loyal to their sibling rivalry. “I will hold them all the way home, if I have to,” she states stubbornly, placing them on the seat where she would sit. Then she adopts a meek expression and squints apologetically. “Would you two mind terribly if I visited the dress shop? I’d like to visit a kindred spirit of mine.”

“I don’t mind,” Diana says, climbing onto the buggy with the help of Jerry, who shrugs at Anne’s question. “I can just look at my new books in the meantime.”

Anne skips off towards the dressmaker’s while Belle munches happily at hay from Jerry’s hand. He rubs her nose gently and coos softly. The gesture is so gentle that it makes Diana’s heart ache and she goes back to flipping through her first selection.

“What books did you get?” he asks her after a moment.

She looks up in surprise. “Oh. Well,  _ Pride and Prejudice  _ by Jane Austen,  _ Frankenstein _ by Mary Shelley, and a book of poetry by Henry David Thoreau.”

He laughs. “I do not know why I expected to know any of the names.”

“I’ve only read one of them myself— _ Pride and Prejudice.  _ It’s one of my favorite books, but Anne doesn’t like it because the writing isn’t ‘romantical’ enough, but I think it’s really because the main couple reminds her of herself and Gilbert Blythe.”

He snorts. “Anne is deep in denial about that one. What is your book about?”

She launches into a summary of the plot, enthusiastic because even though her copy of the book was ruined years ago in an unexpected rainstorm, Diana has read it enough to know nearly every line. When she tells him about the large, poor Bennett family, Jerry remarks that his family is much the same.

“Except more boys and less money,” He says, sitting down next to her on the bench. “Your book sounds…  _ intéressant.  _ What is the word in English?”

“Interesting,” Diana says. “You could borrow it, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t mind.”

But he waves her offer away. “I can’t read long books like that. There are too many words I don’t know. Like ‘interesting’ just now.”

“I think you could, if you really tried. You just have to really take your time reading. Like here, try to read this.” She flips the book open to the first page and moves it closer to him. He eyes her reluctantly but she assures him, “I won’t judge you. I’m terrible at reading aloud myself.”

After a short moment, Jerry starts to read. He stutters and mispronounces words at first, but makes it through the first two lines without much help. When he does, he smiles at her, proud.

Then he gets to the next sentence. “What is this word? Neeg… neh…”

“Neighborhood,” Diana says clearly.

“Oh.” He squints. “The spelling makes no sense.”

“Sometimes English is like that.”

He stares at the words on the page, a crease in his forehead.

“You are a good teacher, Diana,” Jerry says after a moment. “You’ll be good at the teacher school with Anne.”

Diana closes the book abruptly and her face drops. Then Anne reappears, and the conversation is left at that, hanging in the air. Jerry doesn’t sing so much on the ride back to Avonlea, but he does agree to accompany Diana back to her home when Anne requests their ride be stopped so she can pick some flowers from a field.

Once they are alone again, Jerry asks, “Did I say something wrong earlier, when we were reading the book?”

Diana sighs and swallows, her throat sore from frequent abuse. “No. No, it’s just that I won’t be attending Queen’s Academy with Anne and the others in a year’s time. My mother won’t allow it.” She squeezes her hands tightly together and gazes away. “She wants me to be married.”

“Oh. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t know,” Diana finishes for him as the pull up to Diana’s house. “Really, don’t worry. I try not to think about it.”

Jerry stops Belle and jumps off the cart before helping her down as well. She holds onto his arm, feeling a tad dizzy to be upright, and he escorts her to her front door. The sky is dimming, the last traces of dusk fading to darkness.

“So you want to go to school?” Jerry asks.

“Well, yes. I never liked school so much before here in Avonlea. At the same time I’m scared for it to end.” She glances at Jerry, who has never even had the chance to miss school. “I suppose I should be grateful I had the opportunity to attend what school I did. Anne is much brighter than me, anyways. She’s more fit to the life of an educated woman.”

They reach her front door. Diana can see her mother waiting for her through a window. She’s disappointed that their time together has reached its end. 

“Maybe it won’t mean anything to you, but I think you are very smart,” Jerry says. She smiles at him and he awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck. “You can still learn, even without more school.”

“Thank you, Jerry.” Then, after a moment of hesitation, she says, “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve ever really talked, just you and me.”

“There was that time in the barn a couple weeks ago.” 

He shrugs, a small grin adorning his lips. 

Her face burns. “Oh, goodness, I’m so mortified. Don’t remind me.” She breathes in and out and gathers the courage to say, “Let’s do this again.”

Jerry wears a puzzled look when he asks, “You want to spend time with me? Just me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I like talking to you,” she says, defensive. “How about meeting back here tomorrow?”

But he barely waits a moment to respond, “I’ll be here. After mass and lunch.” He stumbles backwards with a goofy grin. “ _ Au revior _ , Diana.”

Diana watches him leave then heads inside. That night she doesn’t eat dinner and it makes her radiant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter coming out wednesday or thursday- depending on what's going on in my life lol. if anyone is interested i could rant forever about the historical research i've done on this fanfic. the amount of hours i've spent googling "french canadian folk songs" or "protestant-catholic relations in canada among the poor" is OBSCENE. i've rly tried my best to be as historically accurate as possible (probably obsessed too much about that.) 
> 
> you can follow me on tumblr @antspaul or drop a message if you want to talk about this story. i'm thorsty for ur feedback so if you have something to say please leave a comment~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: bingeing, purging, restricting, depression, and other general ED behaviors that you should stay away from if they would trigger you in any way.

Jerry doesn’t really know why she wants to spend time with him, but he’s not about to say no to a girl as beautiful and elegant as Diana Barry, especially when she can make his heart beat loudly in his ears with just a smile. 

He wears his Sunday shirt and vest, both hand-me-downs from Gabriel. They’re the only nice clothes he has, the others stained or ripped from frequent wear at the Cuthberts’ farm or from his brothers who wore it before him. He wants to impress Diana, show her he cares, but he’s not great with words. So this is what he does.  

Margot is cautiously supportive, if not a little put out that he’s forfeiting the little time they have together. Nevertheless she fusses over his hair and a stain on his sleeve, and warns him to stay out of the way of Ms. Barry as he walks out the shop door. 

When the Barry’s house finally comes into view, he spots Diana, sitting under a tree with a book in her hand- probably one of the ones from yesterday, the name of which he can’t remember, because he didn’t know one of the words. When she sees him finally, she stands up and smiles at him, though it takes a moment for her to become upright. She’s beautiful and warm as ever, but something behind her eyes tells him she’s troubled. Her smile doesn’t fill her whole face. 

“Hello, Jerry,” she says cordially, placing her book in a small basket at her feet. “How nice you look this afternoon.”

He brushes his shirt off and clears his throat like he hadn’t thought a thing about it. “Did you wait too long for me?”

She shakes her head; the half-smile still adorns her mouth. “No. Shall we go?”

She hangs on tight to his arm as the walk under the blossoming apple trees lining the Avenue. The flowers that will soon turn to fruit send a sweet scent into the air that the wind brings right to their noses. 

He asks her more about her book, which she appears to enjoy but he can tell she’s not totally present in the moment, which stings as much as it confuses him. She invited him here herself, after all. 

So he asks her about it. “Is something wrong?”

She’s genuinely surprised he picked up on anything. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You look like you’re thinking about something else.”

She just shakes her head, looking down at the dirt path beneath their feet. “It’s nothing. Things are just awfully complicated right now. That’s all. More complicated than you could even fathom.”

“ _ Fathom _ ?” He doesn’t recognize the word. 

“It means to understand completely. What I mean is… my problems are hard to follow.”

Defensive, he shoots back, “You can still talk about it. You're not the only one with a conplicated life.”

“ _ Com _ plicated,” she corrects. 

“I know that! English is hard.” He huffs and tries to rein in his annoyance, remembering that this is Diana is not some random Protestant scoffing at him at Blair’s store. “I may be poorer than you, but I still have a lot of things to worry about that you’ll never have to worry about in your life. When’s the last time you had to worry about your next meal?” At that, Jerry softens a little, letting the hot air out of his lungs. “Nobody’s life is easy.”

Diana shuts down, her shoulders tense and eyes unfocused. “Okay. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I guess that was an excuse because I don’t really want to talk about it. I don’t even think I know how to talk about it.”

Jerry shakes his head, regretting the intensity of his words. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. You don’t have to tell me things if you don’t want to.”

“No, you’re right. Could you possibly forgive me?” 

And when she asks it like that, how could he say no? So he sighs and replies, “ _ Oui _ .” He smiles to show that he’s not angry and directs them down the path at a faster pace. “ _ Allons-y _ .”

They reach a wide meadow right on the edge of the Spurgeon’s property and Diana practices naming all of the different types of flowers she recognizes. 

“That’s the Queen’s Lady’s Slipper. Mother always keeps them in the house,” Diana says, pointing to a pink and white bud. “And that’s the Sea Spray Rose. Or at least I think it is. Anne is much better at this sort of thing. I like learning about music better.”

“Talk about that, then,” Jerry suggests, easily entranced by anything Diana says. She’s effortlessly thoughtful, without even realizing it, even when he sees something still weighs heavily on her mind. 

“Oh. Well, okay. What would you like to know?”

He shrugs. “ _ Sais pas _ . Maybe, how do you know what to play on the piano? Because reading music is so different than reading words.”

“It’s really quite similar, actually...”

She jumps into a discussion, comparing letters and words to notes and melodies and just like that, she comes to life. Music seems to be the only thing that actually distracts her, and through music, he catches a glimpse of the true Diana, the one underneath the carefully constructed image that she presents to everyone. And in that moment, something grows in him. And maybe he falls a little bit in love with her. 

~

It’s mid-May and everything is warm except for Diana, even as she sits inside with her family at lunch on a sunny day. A coldness seeped into her bones that won’t shake, no matter how many blankets she piles on top of herself at night.

Diana sips at hot tea, thankful Mary Joe has made a fresh pot and the temperature still nears scalding.

Her mother and father chat idly about some aspect of William’s business while Minnie May, who at six has not grown out of her graceless habits, demolishes an apple without actually eating any of it. Diana has a similar method to her restriction but goes about it much more purposefully. She’s already binged and purged today so she’s not eager to consume any more.

Her mother clears her throat. “Diana, your father and I were discussing things last night and…” Her parents exchange a glance. “We thought it may be wise for you to start your finishing before the term ends.”

Diana’s brow furrows in confusion. “Do you mean I would be tutored and attend school at the same time?”

Minnie May roots in her teeth with a finger, oblivious to the conversation.

Eliza purses her lips. “No, Darling. We have received word that your tutor could arrive before the beginning of summer. You would withdraw from school immediately.”

Her stomach sinks and her breath quickens. “Leave school? But—”

The rational part of her knows leaving school would leave her to spiral further and further to the point of no return. The other part, the one obsessed with food and appearance and numbers, knows leaving school would mean losing completely her personal autonomy and secret pleasures too.

She suspects something else is going on here that has made her parents anxious to finish her. Something. Or someone.

“Mother, I don’t understand. Why can’t I finish this term of school?”

Her mother looks to her father. “William? Perhaps you’d like to explain to your daughter.”

Her father folds his newspaper in quarters and takes a drink of tea before saying, “Well. Diana, I had hoped we would discuss this under a different setting, but I suppose now is just good as any.”

He smiles at her in an attempt to lighten the mood but Diana is far too in suspense for it to be of any worth.

“There is an associate of mine,” he starts, “of great wealth and property who has expressed a keen desire to begin courting you. It would be a fine match that would bring fortune to our family.”

The floor drops out from underneath Diana as she gapes at her father. To expect an impending courtship is one thing. To hear the words come from her father’s mouth is another altogether.

“You’d take things slow, of course. You would have ample time to get to know him. His name is Sgt. Charles Montgomery.”

All is silent for a moment until Diana realizes they are waiting for her to speak. “How old is- is Sgt. Montgomery?”

“He is twenty-five,” her mother answers, and then presses her lips into a thin line and looks away. In that moment Diana realizes Eliza Barry is as dissatisfied at the arrangement as Diana. “You would meet him first before you made your decision.”

Twenty-five. Nearly nine years her senior. There is less of an age difference between Prissy Andrews and Mr. Phillips.

Diana stomach churns, and even though it’s empty, she still wants to throw up. But there is some filth sticking a washed finger down her throat won’t rid her of. “When?” she whispers.

“Two weeks from Saturday he will visit,” her father answers.

Diana focuses on her shaking hands, folded on her lap. They are so, so thin. She can wrap her thumb and forefinger around her arm. She is so weak all of the time and her insides ache just  _ constantly _ . Slowly she is breaking down.

It has been three weeks since she ate a meal she kept. In that minute any part of her that could convince her to stop slowly killing herself vanishes and she wants to binge, purge, binge, purge, until there’s nothing of her left. 

“Alright,” Diana says softly. She pushes her plate, still full of lunch food, away from her. “I will meet him, then.”

~

Anne pulls up a weed a couple feet away from Jerry, huffing as she encounters resistance from the ground. They both balance on their hands and knees in the potato field, removing pesky weeds from the path that would use up precious resources that the crop needs and throwing them into a bucket once they’re out of the red dirt. 

Jerry hums a tune, a melody Gabe played on the fiddle last time he came around about two weeks ago. Anne hasn’t done more than side-eye him in annoyance for his humming, uncharacteristic of a girl who never hesitates to speak her mind regarding even the smallest of things, especially considering they’ve been weeding for over an hour. 

He ceases his humming as asks Anne, “Are you feeling alright?”

Anne looks up at his abruptly. “Huh?”

He repeats his question. 

“I’m fine, Jerry,” Anne replies, a little short. “Why would you think anything is wrong?”

Jerry shrugs, leaning over to toss a couple blades of astray grass into the metal bucket. “I don’t know. You’re just really quiet today.”

Rolling her eyes, Anne counters, “Believe it or not, Jerry, I can manage twenty minutes without speaking.”

He shoots her a menacing look, but then just snorts, shaking his head, and goes back to the ground. 

Anne sits up. “Well, if you  _ must _ know, I’ve been very worried about Diana as of late.”

His head snaps forward, accidentally pulling a potato seedling out of the ground. 

“She’s been acting quite strange and I can’t figure out why. I doubt you would, but you don’t know anything, do you?”

Immediately he wonders if Diana’s strange behavior has to do with him. But then again, hasn’t he noticed the same thing? Diana has issues with her family and with school, but if he knows about those problems then surely Anne does, too. So it must be more than that. 

He shrugs and goes back to work, nestling the seedling back into the soft soil. Next to him, Anne sighs and resumes her job as well, and again says nothing when he starts to hum. 

~

Anne and Diana take tea a few days later at Green Gables. The day is beautiful, a warm, windy, and golden Friday afternoon without a cloud in the sky, so the girls move their meal outside primarily at Anne’s request.

While Diana pours tea, Anne watches a flock of birds fly ahead with rapt attention. “I still can’t believe I live in a place as beautiful as Avonlea,” she sighs, up on her knees on the seat of her chair in a manner Ms. Cuthbert would be very cross to see.

Diana doesn’t respond verbally, just nods and sips at her tea. A splash of her beverage spills on the white gloves she wears now almost constantly to hide the scabs that won’t leave her knuckles. It’s a bit too hot for any more clothing than propriety requires, and she sweats, although her bones still feel like they’re made of ice.

Anne continues to marvel at the quickening wildlife all around them. Then she turns to Diana and states out of nowhere, her eyes squinted at the sun, “You’ve been very quiet recently, Diana.”

Diana forces her lips into a smile. “I hadn’t noticed. Did you receive Cole’s most recent letter?”

Anne drops her knees down and sits normally. “Of course I did. It’s very thrilling that we’ll be able to see him soon! I was utterly devastated to learn he wasn’t in Charlottetown when we visited last. I had hoped to see his latest sculpture.”

They chat idly like that for a while, going over Cole’s adventures with Aunt Josephine’s many artistic friends, Ruby Gillis’ many suitors, Mary and Bash’s second child, and, briefly, an incident with Gilbert Blythe and a boat that Anne refuses to go into.

Instead, Anne shoves a biscuit into her mouth and says, “Have you tried the biscuits? Marilla made them this morning and they are positively scrumptious.”

Diana shakes her head and stares down into her teacup. “No thank you. I’ve not had much of an appetite these days.”

Anne chews and studies her friend’s face. “Yes, I can see that. But why? Is the school thing still bothering you?”

Diana abruptly drops her teacup back onto its saucer and folds her hands on her lap. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

“I really wish you would!” says Anne desperately, growing louder and larger with her movement. “Diana, please, you’ve been so private recently.” She huffs in frustration and draws back. “It saddens me greatly to think that you’re keeping something from me. Don’t you trust me anymore?”

It stings, to realize that Anne has been caught in the fallout of her self-destruction. Diana regrets that things must be this way, so she sighs and gives Anne a little bit of herself.

Diana sips tea. “My parents have… arranged a courtship for me.”

Anne gasps and covers her mouth. “Oh, Diana! Without even considering your feelings? That is the most dreadful news I have ever heard. My heart breaks for you. It does.”

She breathes out quickly and sits up in the chair. “It’s just a courtship for now. But I’d imagine my father wants us married within the year, so there’s really no point in getting upset. I just have to accept it.”

“We’re kindred spirits, Diana. You don’t have to hide how you feel from me,” Anne reminds her earnestly. She places a hand over Diana’s and looks deep into her eyes. “I promise, whatever you say to me, I won’t tell your parents.”

Diana withdraws her hand and places it in her lap, digging her thumbnail into the light fabric that covers her leg. “Father says Sgt. Montgomery is very well-off and would provide a financially stable home.”

Anne deflates . “There you go again, retreating back into your head. You used to share everything with me when we were girls! What changed?”

The subtle implication that Diana is somehow less angers her more than can be explained with sound logic and she shoots up from her seat and starts to pack her things up, including the buns and cakes she and Mary Joe baked for the occasion. “I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve like you, Anne, not anymore! And I’m better for it. It’s pitiful indeed that you can’t see that.”

She storms away from the table with Anne close on her tail.

“Diana, wait!” Anne cries, reaching out. “I’m sorry. I pushed too far, I see that. Can’t we still talk?”

Her fingers graze Diana’s puffed sleeves, but the other girl wrenches away from her touch.

“Not now, Anne,” Diana says, continuing forward on the path out of Green Gables.

It’s a routine, the way her hand reaches into the basket to eat the pastries as she leaves her friend, confused and hurt in the dust, a reflex when anything threatens her. A shortcut to control and peace. When all of the buns have disappeared, but a few cakes remain, Diana crouches behind a tree to undo the damage done.

She anticipates the coming relief as she ties her hair back, rolls her sleeves up, and removes her gloves. Diana’s knees hit the ground and she breathes deeply before slowly shoving her finger between her teeth and along the roof of her mouth until it reaches that special spot that triggers her gag reflex. Then everything comes back up after enough rounds. Like her, her body learns; each purge takes less time than the last.

~

The next morning, Diana wakes up full of remorse for her harsh words yesterday and sets out to Green Gables as early as her mother will let her, intending to apologize to Anne. But when she arrives, out of breath, dizzy, cheeks still swollen from yesterday, Marilla informs her that Anne and Matthew are gone all day to visit a friend of the Cuthberts’.

Throughout their conversation, a wonderful smell wafts out of the doorway Marilla stands in.

“Thank you for telling me, Ms. Cuthbert,” Diana says cordially. She peaks inside. “Say, are you making plum puffs today?”

Marilla glances behind her. “Why, yes. It’s not often I have a peaceful house. I thought today is as good a day as any, especially with Anne out.”

“Would you perhaps like some help?” Diana offers. “I’ve taken an interest in baking recently and would love to see your technique.”

Marilla smiles and opens the door for the younger girl. “I’d be glad for the help from a mannered lady, Diana. Please, come in.”

Of course, Diana does not intend on eating any of the plum puffs. But Marilla likes to bake her food to taste and Diana is weak, so she does. By the end of things, her stomach is uncomfortably tight and churns with the urge to expel its contents. Throwing up after meals has become less of a choice and more of an involuntary action as of late, though she still uses her finger frequently, such as her episode the previous day.

Diana presses the urge back while she gathers her things, quickly thanking Marilla. She closes the door calmly behind her and breaks into a run as soon as it latches.

She reaches the small patch of woods next to the barn before she hits the ground and the plum puffs make a speedy reappearance. The grass and mud scratch at her tights, but she barely notices with the effort of throwing up. Once the initial wave of nausea wears off, but her stomach hasn’t completely emptied yet, Diana follows through with her usual method.

Fifteen minutes have passed when the leaves behind her crunch under the weight of feet. Unwelcome, the sound sends panic through Diana’s spine but there’s nothing to be done until she finishes. So it’s a second before she turns around, her face flushed in horror, to see  _ Jerry.  _ Of all people!

Her head spins and she wishes she were dead.

As soon as he recognizes that it’s her, he rushes to her side, crouching down and placing a concerned hand on her arm. “Diana, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

She closes her eyes and prays he draws all of the wrong conclusions. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I heard something in the woods,” he explains. “Are you okay?”

Diana nods.

“Are you… done?”

“For now,” she answers, mortified at her raspy, pinched voice. Even her mother’s lessons seem more appealing than being here in this present moment.

“Can you stand up?”

She hesitates but then nods. He supports her arm as her shaky legs struggle to become upright.

“The barn is only a little bit away. You can rest there until you feel better,  _ oui _ ?”

He looks so thoughtful, so troubled that Diana immediately bursts into tears. Jerry balks, clearly unequipped to handle a weeping girl, and urges them along a little faster. They reach the cool barn after a long moment, and he helps her sit down on the hay.

The scene is eerily reminiscent of the afternoon when Diana collapsed in the rainstorm. Jerry found her then. He seems to have a knack for catching her at the exact wrong time.

Jerry sits down right next to her and hands her his handkerchief, miraculously clean even though its owner is soaked in sweat and dirt from a busy day on the farm. “Let me go get you some water.”

She nods miserably, still crying. He returns a moment later with a canteen-  _ his _ canteen, probably- full of fresh water from the pump a few yards away, which she gratefully takes.

“I’m so sorry you have to see me like this,” she says, dabbing at her eyes.

He gives her a pitying smile, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone gets sick.”

Her lower lip trembles. “You always help me and you don’t have to. It’s not fair.”

She starts to cry again, which startles Jerry. He tries to calm her down, placing an arm around her and rubbing reassuring circles on her back.

Mostly she’s scared he saw something more, that he will figure out her secret and do something awful like tell someone about it and she’ll be forced to stop.

“Aren’t we friends?” he says softly. “Friends help each other, right?”

“Why do you always have to see me at my worst?” She sniffs. “You don’t think I’m ugly now, do you?”

Jerry has done nothing but sing praises of her beauty since the day they met. She needs to know that that hasn’t changed.

He frowns, eyes wide and he’s quick to exclaim, “No, never! How could you say that? I think you’re beautiful.”

“Why?” she demands, genuine in her question.

The question takes Jerry aback for a second, but he eventually replies, cheeks red, “Well… I like your hair I guess? And your face is pretty. And you look nice in your dresses.” He tilts his head forward. “You’re also very nice to me even though I’m just a farmhand and am always covered in mud head-to-toe. You see me.”

She stares up at him, his tan face only inches away, with an ache in her heart. “I admire you, Jerry. I wish I could be as sincere as you.”

Lately all her actions feel shrouded in secrecy. No one recognizes the true her. For the first time, she yearns for someone to know her secrets.

He pulls her closer to him.

She sighs and wipes the last tear from her cheeks. “Don’t you have things you have to do on the farm?”

“I think I’ll stay here for now,” he says. “If that’s okay with you.”

It’s almost enough to melt the ice in her bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the support! special shoutout to phoebe (remylebae), gus, and owyn (jormaperalta) for their support of this fic!!! y'all are the best seriously. it's been so great to receive the amount of feedback that i have. it has encouraged me enough that i've started to plan out a sequel to this fic!!!! pls continue to leave kudos and comments, they mean the world to me.
> 
> also, remylebae and jormaperalta both have fantastic shirbert fics up so you should check those out!!!! and scream to me on tumblr @antspaul
> 
> next update next wednesday maybe????


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: eating disorder behavior, (minor) violence towards women, misogyny, purging, bingeing
> 
> Please exercise caution when reading this, especially if you are triggered by eating disorder stuff. You are worth recovery.

It’s remarkable, how little of Diana remains.

Things just come out of her mouth without permission now. Ruby Gillis buys a new dress and cries after Diana points out how dreadful the shade of orange is. Josie Pye and Billy Andrews announce their blossoming courtship and Diana remarks on its doomed future, earning both Josie and Billy’s spite for more than a week.

What she says would have mortified Diana not two months ago, but nothing phases her anymore; she can’t think to care. A fog invaded her mind, removing all propriety and caution, which creates these situations, effectively driving all friends except Anne far, far away.

These days she gets the impression even Anne, though she forgave her for her harsh words at tea, only sticks around out of a sense of obligation.

But it’s just as well. The less people around her, the less people to meddle in her business. She doesn’t have the energy to do much besides go to school and back, anyway.

Still, it terrifies Diana, how quickly she devolves. Everyone she once held dear is left in the wake of her unravelling, unwilling and unknowing victims of the quest for perfection. She mourns for them.

She knows what she does is a problem. It’s not normal, and certainly no one around her would understand. But she also knows that losing control over the food would be the thing to completely break her. She may be destroying herself but at least the choice is hers.

~

Two weeks pass by slowly and all at once, filled with long hours spent alone, when times drags on at a snail’s pace, but also filled with typical end-of-term school anxieties, her mother’s lessons, and lingering glances towards Green Gables (more specifically, its farmhand) on her walks home.

The days leading up to Sgt. Montgomery’s fateful visit feature the increased panic and frantic home-making of Eliza Barry, who titters from room to room constantly, making sure their home appears perfect for Diana’s possible intended. She purchases new drapes and even a new carpet for the sitting room, even though money is still tight, having never quite recovered from the gold fever two years’ prior.

For the most part, she demands Diana to do the chores while she supervises, claiming that it’s good practice for her daughter. The work terribly exhausts Diana, with her shallow breaths and heart that beats so rapidly, so loudly she fears it may pop out of her chest.

Finally, Friday night arrives and so does Sgt. Charles Montgomery, right on time.

He knocks and William Barry rushes to answer him, opening the door to reveal a tall gentleman. Eliza Barry stands behind her daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder and gripping tightly as the Sergeant walks inside.

“Sergeant Montgomery!” Her father exclaims, shaking the man’s hand. “I’m so pleased that you made it. I trust your journey was pleasant?”

He walks inside, removing his hat. “Pleasant enough,” he answers. He looks towards Diana’s mother expectantly. “Could you—"

She scurries towards him, releasing her daughter. “Let me gather your coat and hat.”

He hands them to her, watching as she hangs them on the coat rack next to the entrance. Immediately he reminds Diana of Mr. Phillips: handsome and manly and cold, with little care for politeness to the others around him. He easily could have hung his coat and hat himself, but he expected Eliza to do so.

It irks Diana more than a bit.

“This is my wife, Eliza, who you might remember from our visit to Summerside,” William continues.

Summerside is where her family went the same weekend Diana, Jerry, and Anne travelled to Charlottetown to see Aunt Josephine. No wonder they allowed her to go so easily.

Sgt. Montgomery nods. His eyes then move to Diana and stay there, unwavering, intense.

“And, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, is my beautiful oldest daughter, Diana.”

Her mother bought Diana a new dress, one with a long shirt and straight sleeves. Anne had gushed over it, but Diana barely wanted to touch it with the knowledge of what it means.

She curtsies and he steps toward her, taking her hand to plant a kiss on her gloved knuckles.

“A pleasure to meet you,” she says, wearing a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“The pleasure is mine.” His eyes still on her, he asks her parents, “Where is your youngest?”

“She is staying with a friend of ours for the night. She is still quite young, and we didn’t want her to make any trouble tonight, of course,” her mother explains.

Feeling naked under the Sergeant’s gaze even though she wears four layers of clothing, Diana wishes Minne May was here tonight. Having someone else on her side might help her to feel less vulnerable, to diffuse some of the thick tension that clouds the room.

“Of course,” Sgt. Montgomery echoes.

William claps his hands together. “Well. Shall we sit? Dinner will undoubtedly be ready soon.”

The four travel from the foyer to the dining room, where Diana sits between her mother and the Sergeant. After a few minutes of idle chatter, mostly among her father and the Sergeant, Mary Joe brings out the first course, small hors d'oeuvres made from cheese and bread and a savory jelly given to the Barrys by Bash. Diana, of course, skips this round.

Her mother eventually grows frustrated with their business talk. “Oh, William, must you discuss that at the table? It’s quite impolite.”

“Very sorry, dear,” her father responds. “I’ll change the subject, then. Charles, you’re an English man, aren’t you?”

Sgt. Montgomery nods. “Yes. I was raised and educated in Cambridgeshire, until I joined the military, of course.”

“How impressive. We ourselves lived in London for some time. It’s a wonder a man with your impressive background end up on Prince Edward Island among us humble folk,” her father says, as if he wasn’t also highly educated. “If England were to go back to war, do you believe you’d rejoin the service?”

“One war was enough for me. I did not see action, as my role was an administrative one. I doubt I’d be so lucky again. No, now my goals lie with extending my father’s business to Sherbrooke and Summerside while living a quiet life,” he answers, glancing at Diana.

She swallows, thinking only of how far away from everyone Diana holds dear Sherbrooke and Summerside are.

Then he and her father fall back into conversation surrounding business like her mother had never said anything. After a while, Mary Joe brings out the main course of dinner, a large roast that has been cooking all day. It smells delicious and makes Diana’s mouth water. She cuts up the piece on her plate into tiny little pieces but doesn’t eat them.

Perhaps she will grow so small she will just disappear.

And then it’s time for dessert. Diana has barely said a thing since they all took their places at the table except for a few nods here and there. Only Eliza seems bothered by this.

“How do you like the dessert, Sgt. Montgomery? Diana prepared it,” she says. She nudges her daughter with her foot. “Darling, tell him about what you made.”

“It’s just carrot cake,” Diana says quietly. “I found the recipe in a book.”

The Sergeant takes a bite. “Almost as good as my cook at home does,” he says. “But well enough for one inexperienced.”

Both Diana and her mother take offense to this. Her mother pinches her lips together. “Perhaps when we have finished eating, Diana will play us something on the piano. Would you, darling?”

“Of course, mother.”

Somehow, the Sergeant manages to prove himself even more uninteresting and severe after dinner.

Diana chooses an Erik Satie piece-  _ Once Upon a Time in Paris _ , which contains the famous Gymnopedies _.  _ The song is soft, sad, slow, and full of longing. It matches her mood perfectly and she executes it well. Not that the Sergeant notices in the slightest. He’s too busy being waited on hand and foot by her eager to please father.

She finishes the song and everyone lightly claps.

“That was lovely, darling,” her mother tells her.

Her father says to the Sergeant, “If everything works out, your home will never lack beautiful music.”

Sgt. Montgomery sips at a glass of wine. “I prefer a quiet house. But I suppose it would be useful on special occasions.”

The conversation falls to a quiet lull. In the awkward silence, Eliza Barry clears her throat and says, too loud to be entirely sincere, “I must clear the table. William, would you please help me?”

Her father protests for a second, but his wife sends him a meaningful glare, and he stands up straight and replies, “Yes, of course, my dear.”

So Diana is left alone with the Sergeant. Done at the piano, she stands up and takes a seat as far away from him as possible without making her intentions obvious. But he leaves his chair to sit next to her on the settee. Up close, their legs touching, he’s not as handsome as he seemed far away. Though he’s still young, frown lines mark his face and his teeth are yellow.

“Diana, I must admit,” he starts, his voice low. “When I first heard about you, I didn’t think you would be quite so beautiful.” He gently places a hand over hers and it takes all the willpower she possesses to not immediately yank it away from him. “But now I can see that our marriage would be a very prosperous one, provided you are willing to be an obedient wife.”

His words send a shudder down her spine. “You can tell that just from my looks?” she asks softly. It’s an act of quiet rebellion. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He grows impatient. “Well, then educate me, if you must.”

She mentally begs her parents to emerge from the kitchen as his hand ghosts up her arm slowly. She clears her throat and looks away from him. “Well, I like to read.” Then, in the thought that perhaps their union wouldn’t be so horrible if they had common ground, she adds, “Jane Austen is my favorite.”

“I never saw the point in reading for pleasure,” he says.

With this miniscule comment, her blood turns fiery with anger and spite and she snaps, “Are you going to disagree with everything I say or do all night?”

His face is emotionless as he pulls back his hand and slaps her right across the face. “You will learn not to speak to me that way.” He notices her wide eyes and says, “No need to be upset. You will thank me one day for that.”

Shocked and disturbed, Diana slowly stands up, holding her cheek as it turns a bright shade of red. “I-I must go,” she whispers, moving quickly across the room. The Sergeant stands up after her but does not follow when she leaves the room and heads straight out the door.

Diana shivers and holds her arms. It’s summer but she is always cold, even in the muggy heat. Her feet move on their own into the dark wilderness and before she knows it, she’s standing in front of Green Gables. Anne’s room is lit up with the glow of a candle but Diana knows she isn’t there to see her bosom friend. No, she’s there for someone else, the only person who can erase the sting of the slap from her face.

She grows desperate and unhinged as she crosses the fence and nears the barn. Rushing through the main entrance, Diana prays that Matthew isn’t there when she calls out, “Jerry?”

To her everlasting relief, his brown, tanned head pops up from the hayloft, confused. “Diana?”

“I needed to see you,” she breathes. She must look insane in her fancy dinner dress and messy hair, frazzled from the walk through the dark woods without a lantern. “Please?”

He doesn’t waste a moment, just scurries down the latter of the hayloft and over to her, enveloping her in his arms and leaning his back against a way.

“Are you okay?” he asks as his eyes search hers. Her breath is shaking. “What’s—”

She silences any future words by grabbing the back of his head and bringing their lips together into a forceful kiss. At first, he’s surprised but then he relents and melts into her, kissing her back. For a moment they’re like that, lips against lips, tongues sneaking stealthily past borders to intermingle. Jerry threads a hand into her hair and massages her scalp, which sends a shiver down her body. She’s closer to him than she’s ever been to anyone before.

Finally he leans back to smile at her, tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She thinks he’s about to say something, but she can still feel the Sergeant’s hand against her cheek so she pulls him back in for another kiss. He breaks away from her lips to kiss her cheek, then trails a path down her neck, sucking and biting lightly. She lets out a breathy gasp. His hands drift from her hair, to her back, to her hips and this detail startles her out of the moment.

She gently removes his hands from her waist and holds them in front of her. “I’m sorry if this was too sudden.”

He beams at her and squeezes her hands. “Am I complaining?”

Then he presses one of her palms to his lips and Diana feels safe. Not happy, but safe. She may have some explaining to do to her parents and the Sergeant once she goes home, but she’s not there right now. They can wait.

~

“Why do you look so smug?”

Jerry removes his hat and jacket, draping them over his mother’s favorite rocking chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says to Margot as he runs a hand through his messy hair. 

Margot smirks as she says, “You do too. You can’t lie to me. What happened? Did that fancy rich girl smile at you or something? Ask you to go on another walk?”

Margot stands near their kitchen table, clearing away dishes from a dinner everyone but Jerry has already eaten. Their mother scrubs at a pan a few feet away behind her, in range to hear them perfectly. The remainder of their family is scattered around the cramped room, their father taking a premature nap, and the younger girls quietly arguing in front of the fireplace. 

Jerry shakes his head quickly, motioning for her to stop talking so loudly. At this, Margot’s eyes widen and she swiftly drops the plates next to their mother before ushering over to the darkest corner of their home to ensure privacy. 

“What happened?” she immediately demands as soon as they lower themselves down onto the floor. The bed stands next to them, providing a border between them and the rest of the room.

He shrugs, aloof. 

Margot slaps his arm in frustration. “Stop that! You didn’t tell her you like her or something, did you?”

He can’t help the sly grin that grows on his face. “‘Like her’?”

“Stop it, seriously.” Margot slaps him again. This time it hurts. “You’re stalling.”

Jerry laughs to himself and then comes clean. “Well… she may or may not have kissed me.”

He expects his sister to squeal, or react in some other way befitting to the thirteen year old girl that she is. But at his confession, her face only appears sour and distasteful.

“What? Why do you look like that?” 

She squints. “You know why.”

“I really don’t,” he protests. 

“Do you really think it’s so smart to become so involved with some spoiled rich girl?” Margot asks rhetorically, folding her arms in front of her chest. “You’re just asking to get hurt.”

“We’ve had this same talk before and I haven’t changed my mind yet,” he says, and starts to stand up, only to be pulled back down by Margot before he can become upright. 

“Believe it or not, I’m looking out for you, you stupid idiot. Does her mother of approve of you courting her? Her rich,  _ Protestant _ mother?”

He just stares back at her, wanting to protest further but he can see very clearly where Margot is coming from. “Mrs. Barry doesn’t know yet. Diana doesn’t want her to know,” Jerry admits. “And we’re not courting, I don’t think. Can’t it be enough for you that I like spending time with her?”

Margot scoffs. “I’d say you like her for more than just her conversation skills.”

“Margot! I’m being serious, you can’t tell anyone.”

Her gaze becomes icy at his words and she spits back, “Who would I even tell? I’m stuck inside this room all day with Maman, every day except for mass on Sunday.” She looks away and Jerry can tell that he’s inadvertently struck a nerve. “You’re the one who gets to leave everyday and be independent.”

Oh. So she’s jealous. An apology is on the tip of his tongue when their mother calls for Margot from the kitchen. 

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t tell anyone.” 

And she brushes past him, leaving Jerry alone in the corner and increasingly convinced that even if he went to school for a million years, he could never understand girls. 

~

“Anne, I swear I didn’t mean anything by it! I don’t know what you want me to apologize for!”

“Oh, you know very well what you did, Gilbert Blythe!”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley-Cuthbert have been arguing for the larger part of ten minutes and show no sign of slowing down or stopping. Diana sits in the same spot she occupied when Gilbert Blythe arrived during tea time with a pie baked by Mary in hand for the Cuthberts. Shortly after, Anne unleashed her fury on a confused Gilbert. She observes, growing bored of the constant bouts of verbal battle between the two and more sure than she’s ever been that in a few years’ time, if she’s still alive, she’ll be watching as Anne walks down the aisle to meet Gilbert on the other end.

She feels pressure on the back of her chair and turns to see Jerry, likely drawn out of the barn by the noise. He has a bemused smile on his face and views the scene in front of him curiously.

“Why are they fighting this time?” he asks. He touches her back, out of sight of the otherwise engaged Anne and Gilbert.

“I’m not completely sure,” she admits, squinting. It’s mid afternoon and the sun hangs right ahead of her. “But from what I’ve pieced together so far, he made some comment about her hair at school today. He brought over that pie a few minutes ago, totally clueless.”

Jerry winces. Anything to do with Anne’s hair is best left alone. “Poor Gilbert.”

“His infatuation with Anne is one of the worst-kept secrets in Avonlea,” Diana says. “Second only to Anne’s infatuation with him.”

Jerry laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. “Hey, can I have one of these?”

Diana nods. She won’t eat the scones. He grabs one and takes a large bite out of it. Her eyes badly want to watch him chew but she tears them away. “Do you want to go somewhere more private? Where we can… talk?”

He tilts his head towards her, wearing a knowing smirk. “Are you sure they,” he gestures to Anne and Gilbert, “won’t notice? Us,  _ talking _ ?”

She swats at his arm. “I think they’re rather occupied right now.”

Jerry extends a hand and she takes it, glad to have an anchor to combat the dizziness that she just can’t shake no matter how much water she drinks.

“You did run out early last night,” he says wryly as they scurry back to the barn.

Always the barn. It’s their special place. The tall walls block out the world.

Diana shrugs as they enter the structure. “My parents already weren’t happy with my absence. Any longer, and I’d never be let out again.”

He laughs, backing her against a wooden wall. “Well, I’m glad you were.” His warm brown eyes study her face. “But we didn’t come here to  _ talk _ , did we?”

She grabs his hands, entwining their fingers. Slowly draws him in, closer and closer to her until their breathes intermingle and she can smell him, sweat and dirt but also something natural and sweet. Her next words are whispered. “Of course not.”

“Good.” Jerry grins and leans in.

Today, when they kiss, it’s different than last night. Of course, her state of mind feels infinitely clearer than then, not clouded by desperation or anxieties. But it’s also fierier. Heavier.

The kiss deepens, and his tongue lightly prods at her lips. Her mouth parts to let him in, to open up for him. He tastes like the scone he just ate. She prays she scrubbed her mouth thoroughly enough the last time she purged, because she’s only consumed water and tea since then.

When they break for air, Jerry asks breathlessly, “Are we ever going to tell anyone?”

Diana looks down and replies. “Not right now.” Her arms wrap around his neck and she glances up, hopeful. “Eventually.”

She tries to pull him back in, but he stops her.

“Are you cold?”

“Warm me up,” she begs.

He just nods and connects their mouths once again, eliciting a small, breathy moan from the pit of her throat.

Jerry grins and she’s dismayed to see he’s laughing at her. “Quit being so loud. Someone will hear.”

“You quit being so good at this, then,” she replies.

He shrugs and trails kisses from her cheeks, to the soft skin behind her, down her neck, to finally land on her prominent collarbone. He nips and tugs lightly, as to not leave a mark, all the while touching every inch of skin he can find on her body.

“Don’t mess it up!” she giggles as one of his hands buries into her hair.

He traces intricate patterns on her forearm, her back, her hips. A shiver winds down her back and she thinks that things can’t get much better than this.

Things come to a jarring halt when his fingers reach her stomach. Without thinking, she pushes him away, her eyes wide. His face falls and adopts a look of dejection.

All is quiet between them until Jerry finally asks her, “Did I do something wrong? Is this going too fast? Please tell me. I-I don’t know how to do this with fancy ladies.”

But she’s already quickly closing in on herself, shutting down. “Do you do this with a lot of normal ladies?” she asks flatly, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She doesn’t want him to see it. If he finds out that she’s grown hideous, he’ll leave and that will be that.

He shakes his head. “Not anymore. I promise.”

“Good answer,” she replies. Diana bites her lip. Looks down. “Just not my stomach, alright? Don’t touch my stomach.”

He throws his hands up in surrender. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

She tries to give him a smile. “It’s okay. It’s nothing about you. Don’t worry about it.”

But the moment is lost, yet another victim of Diana’s self-destruction.

Jerry rubs the back of his head and shifts from foot to foot. “I’d… better get back to work. Mr. Cuthbert might need my help in the fields.”

She nods, smoothing her dress out. “Anne is going to notice before long.” She kisses his cheek and they embrace before parting ways. Something heavy settles in her chest, a seed of doubt.

If only she were beautiful and confident. It’s starting to seem like the day will never come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this! please leave a comment to tell me what you liked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: the usual. eating disorder behavior, graphic descriptions of bingeing and purging, etc. 
> 
> We're nearing the end here. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Lately Diana thinks that she hasn’t improved herself at all. She hates the way she looks now and is truly miserable. She starts to wonder if she should follow her mother’s advice and leave school before the term ends, because she isn’t doing herself any favors by staying. It takes all the willpower she has just to stay upright and appear like she is paying attention. Her mind can’t focus on anything but food, no matter how hard she tries to be a better student.

Her monthly cycle hasn’t arrived in two months, which is something of a blessing but also worries her. She isn’t very educated on the subject but she knows the close relationship one’s cycle has with childbearing.

Not that she wants to have children with the Sergeant. But that is what’s expected of Diana.

Her skin is dry, even worse than it is during the winter months, and cracks and bleeds. Blood stains speckle her gloves, both from her dry skin and from the scabs that won’t go away. Not only that, but her arms have sprouted dark tufts of hair that remind Diana more of a wolf than a young lady.

There’s a bald spot right on top of her head, which she covers up with her bow.  

Once or twice she wants to give up, go back to “normal”. But when she tries to eat a small but full meal, she either eclipses into a binge or feels an unbearable amount of shame. Both end up with her on her knees, in the woods with a finger down her throat.

Sleep eludes her even after the most tiring of days. Hunger and racing thoughts keep her up in her bed half the night. If she does manage to fall asleep, she wakes up with her insides just  _ hurting _ , like they are eating themselves. So she will lie awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting to fall back asleep and hoping she won’t wake up in the morning.

~

Simon arrives just after dark, Gabriel trailing behind him by only ten minutes. Valerie Baynard sweeps them both into a tight embrace as soon as they set foot in the door, dropping her things to do so. 

“Goodness, Maman, you’d think you hadn’t seen me in months,” Gabe jokes with an easy grin on his face. “It’s only been since last Sunday.”

Their mother pulls back to grab his tanned face with both hands. “Hush. Any time apart from her children is too long for a mother.”

On a normal night, Jerry would share a knowing smile with Margot at their family’s antics and drama, but things have been tense between them ever since he came clean about him and Diana. Their family is large but without Margot by his side as a partner and confidante, Jerry can’t help but feel alone. 

The younger girls shriek with delight when they see their older brothers. Simon, who as the butcher’s apprentice lives more comfortably than any of them, slides small pieces of candy into each of their palms. Even Chloe, who somehow managed to find an excuse to come home early, eagerly accepts the treat, though she pockets it for later. 

Jerry and Margot don’t get candy, but that’s typical. He’s just glad the younger girls got some. 

The nine of them- everyone but the oldest, Corinne, who lives far away in Montreal with her husband- cramp around the small dinner table really meant for no more than five people to feast on the dinner that their parents pinched pennies for the last week to provide. A good cut of meat, generous portions of mashed potatoes, and sweet-smelling bread sit in the center, and Jerry understands why his mother said no when Satine asked for an extra glass of milk for Sunday breakfast. 

Apparently, the occasion is important, but no one has bothered to tell Jerry why. Then Simon clears his throat as their plates near empty, and says, “I have wonderful news to share with you all.”

Gabe snickers and says, “Did the old man finally let you taste his cognac? Congratulations, brother, you’re finally a man.”

The old man meaning the butcher Simon works for. Margot rolls her eyes, but like Jerry she’s laughing under her breath, while Simon glares at his brother. 

“No, actually,” Simon says, daggers in his eyes. He clears his throat. “Maman, Papa, Mr. Desmairais has agreed to let Annette and I marry.”

Valerie gasps, clasping her hands together in front of her mouth. 

Alphonse smiles and pats his son on the back. “That  _ is _ wonderful news, son! Do you know when the wedding will be?”

“Early July, we think,” Simon replies. 

His mother grabs Simon’s hand and squeezes it. “I’m very happy for you,  _ mon trésor _ . Annette is a good Catholic girl.” She eyes Gabe and Jerry. “I can barely wait for my other sons to find such happiness. There are some lovely girls in the parrish.”

Jerry sinks lower in his chair, stabbing a chunk of potato with his fork. Gabe makes no secret of his distaste, openly rolling his eyes while their parents coo over Simon and grill him for every single detail. At nineteen, Gabe has never showed any interest in women or marriage. 

Their mother likes to sit in the pews at mass and point out suitable matches for her sons while they wait for the service to start, saying things like “Look at little Louise. She’s grown up into quite the young lady, has she not? And her father makes the most beautiful, expensive fabrics.”

Simon’s announcement, though a happy one, serves as just another reminder of how far apart his world sits from Diana’s. 

He notices Margot staring at him thoughtfully throughout the meal, though she looks away everytime he catches her. After she, Chloe, and their mother clear away the dishes, Margot corners him at the edge of the bed he shares with her and the rest of his younger sisters. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she says softly.

“Go through what?” 

A crease forms between her eyebrows. “Don’t play dumb with me tonight, brother. Remember that you can’t lie to me. I know you’re at least a little upset about what Maman said earlier.”

He shrugs and they sit down on the mattress next to each other. 

“I thought you were mad at me,” he says. 

“ _ Duh _ , I was.” Margot rolls her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to be sad.”

“Well, thank you,” Jerry says dryly.

Margot elbows him lightly. “You should talk to her more about what’s going on between you two. It would help.”

He doesn’t really see how it would, but Margot’s right. It’s a conversation they need to have, even if nothing is revealed that he doesn’t already know. 

“I’m planning on it,” Jerry says. 

“Promise you’ll tell me what happens as soon as you do?”

Jerry nods, and cracks a smile. “ _ Duh _ ,” he says, imitating Margot earlier. 

Jerry knows what his adult life will look like, a black-and-white future that won’t make his mother weep with joy. He’ll get married in a few years and take over his father’s business, or maybe he won’t since his father hasn’t said a word about training him in his trade. Maybe he’ll go to work in the states or a cannery until he saves enough money to buy his own plot of land for a farm and be permanently drawn into a long life of planting, sowing, harvesting, and the worries of the barren winter. And maybe he shouldn’t think it but the only way he can add color to those lives in his mind is to picture Diana in them, by his side, unrelenting.

~

She’s in a daze. Her finger is halfway down her throat. There’s a sizeable pile of vomit in front of her. She doesn’t even see it. Her mind slows down to a snail’s pace when she’s like this, on her knees and taking care of her most urgent business. It’s the only thing that breaks through the fog in her brain, nothing else. Not even her mother’s nagging.

Not even Jerry, who shows up in the woods behind her in the act. She’s too out of it to notice, only stopping the ritual when he asks loudly, “What are you doing?”

It takes a moment to register and truly process the situation. Her blood runs cold as she slowly removes the finger from her mouth. Her jaw aches as her hand had been there for a while, her gag reflex not reacting as quickly as usual today. The meal her mother forced her to eat still sits in her stomach, heavy.

“Diana?”

She curses her bad luck and coughs twice, trying to stand on shaky legs but they don’t want to hold her weight up. Jerry catches her as she stumbles, leaning her gently against the tree.

“I’m fine. You can go back to work. I’m okay.” Diana squeezes her eyes shut and steadies her breathes, trying to think of some excuse, because he’s going to want one. He’s caught her in one too many compromising situations to passively accept her lies. People may think Jerry’s stupid, just another uneducated and poor French farm boy, but he’s far more intuitive than that. 

But an excuse would require brain power she doesn’t possess. She’s too caught up in the moment, the buzz, the amazing relief of becoming empty once again.

Jerry crouches beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Diana, seriously, what’s going on? You were... What was that?”

A bird sings a song nearby. A sudden burst of winds sways the trees back and forth and a few leaves fall to the ground. And it’s too much. She can’t think.

“Were you…” he swallows, “Making yourself throw up or something? Did you eat something bad again?”

She doesn’t know what makes her do it. Maybe she needs someone to know after all this time of suffering in silence. Maybe her ability to lie has completely dried up and all that’s left is the truth. 

She breathes out, shaky, and stares at the ground as she finally admits aloud, “I… I did it on purpose.” Her breathing quickens, shallows, her hands and lips trembling. “I had to. I’m sorry.”

With the confession her body sags against the tree, its bark scraping her back through her dress. 

Jerry is silent for a long moment. Terror builds in Diana with every silent second’s passing. The post-purge high wanes, replaced by an extremely elevated version of the usual shame and anxiety and mortification. At last he says, “I don’t understand. You forced yourself to throw up? Did you eat poison or something?”

In a sense the food is like poison to her. But he doesn’t mean it like that. So, in an effort to voice her thoughts, she says, “Haven’t you ever felt like you don’t deserve to eat?” 

Instead of answering her question, Jerry counters, “Everyone deserves to eat. I don’t… what does that have to do with…”

Her fists clench. “Mother made me eat lunch. So I had to get rid of it.” She can’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. 

“Why?” is his only response. Simple. Demanding. 

The hurt must show on her face because he quickly adds, “I just want to know.”

She shakes her head and buries it in her hands. To explain to him why would mean understanding it herself. An impossible task. So she gives him the most basic answer she can give: “I don’t know. I just want to be smaller.”

“You’re already small,” he says, brow furrowed. Jerry lowers himself down to the ground in a more permanent position, all the while his hand staying on her shoulder. 

Diana tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but it doesn’t budge, choking her instead. “It’s not good enough,” she croaks.

Her skin crawls at her honesty. She wants to take it back. She wants to tell him everything.

Jerry sighs. The air around them is heavy with tension and uncertainty. She’s unsure how he’ll react. 

He doesn’t react, really. Just studies her pale face and asks, “And you do that after every time you eat?”

“If I eat,” she responds. Her fingers leave her face to dig into her thighs. 

“How often do you eat?”

The straightforward interrogation almost scares her more than the disbelief or flat rejection she expected. 

Diana shrugs. 

“So that day with the tarts and the rain–”

“You remember that?” she whispers.

“–when I helped you out of the mud… how long had it been, then?”

“Three or four days, maybe. I can’t remember for sure.”

He exhales gruffly. “I don’t get why you’d do that to yourself,” Jerry continues. There’s not malice in his voice but there’s not understanding, either. “You have so much food and you don’t want it?”

Jerry, with his four younger sisters and two older brothers. It’s not hard to picture him giving up his dinner so that Lanore or Satine would go to bed full. He’s told her about the times, especially during the winter, when his family’s shop didn’t make enough money to feed him and all his brothers and sisters. Jerry was no stranger to starvation. But it had never been his choice. 

Diana feels a sudden burst of anger. Because it isn’t a choice for her, either. “Do you think I  _ want _ this?” she chokes out, desperate for her to hear her. “Don’t you think if I could just quit and feel better about myself, I would? So, so many times I’ve wanted to stop. I’ll go and eat barely anything and then hate myself so much I can’t keep it. So I come here. I have to.”

Jerry studies her face, sorrowful. He reaches down and grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers. “I don’t get it,” he finally says, his voice low. “But I believe you. I’m sorry.”

They just sit there like that for a while, her weeping into his shoulder, him stroking her hair, a startled look in his eyes. She could be okay with him knowing, one day in the future when all this has passed. The thought almost gives her relief. But there’s still that nagging feeling that now that everything’s out in the open he’ll leave her in her weakness.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she murmurs.

“Okay,” he says, far away.

~

Jerry crouches down on the front step of Green Gables, picking at a large piece of bread Ms. Cuthbert gave him as a part of his lunch. He’ll finish it eventually, but he’s making a conscious effort to eat his lunch as slowly as possible to catch Anne on her way home from school.

Diana’s confession yesterday weighs heavily on his mind, growing heavier by the minute. If he knows Diana she won’t seek help herself, but she desperately needs it. He’s seen too many people suffer and even die from starvation. He won’t let Diana do that to herself.

So, Anne. He didn’t really know where to turn, but if anyone could form a plan of action, it’s her, Avonlea’s resident problem solver. Maybe she can clear things up because he’s still incredibly baffled by the whole thing.

Matthew went to Ms. Rachel Lynde’s house this morning to help Mr. Lynde repair the roof of her shed. If one of the Cuthbert’s cows wasn’t dangerously close to labor, Jerry would be there too. But he managed to get lucky, if you could call it that, so he’s running on his own schedule today.

Footsteps and a cheery voice come from the woods, and shortly after Anne emerges, alone, swinging her slate and basket and squinting at the bright May sun. He waits patiently for her to approach the house as she greets the cows, horses, chickens, and even potato crop, before reaching Jerry.

“Oh, hello, Jerry,” Anne says in high spirits. “What are you still doing at lunch?”

He stands, his legs hesitant to rise. “I was waiting for you.”

Her brow creases. “Waiting for me? Whatever for?”

Jerry looks away, frowning. “It’s about Diana.”

Comprehension blooms on Anne’s face as she grabs his hand, throwing a glance towards Green Gables and the tall figure of Marilla, chopping potatoes in the kitchen, still well within hearing distance. “Let’s go someplace more private where we can properly discuss things, shall we?”

She drags him behind the chicken coop, out of sight and sits, legs crossed. Jerry mirrors her position in the soft grass.

Anne waits, expectant.

Jerry takes a deep breath and starts, “Diana told me something. Yesterday.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, eyes trained intently on his face.

“I don’t know,” he admits softly. “She sort of told me not to tell anyone.”

Anne presses her lips firmly together and then says, “If she didn’t want anyone to know… well, Diana’s already quite upset as of late. I wouldn’t want to betray her trust.”

Jerry shakes his head and runs a cursory hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s the thing! She told what’s been going on with her, why she’s acted so strange lately. And that’s why I have to tell you. Because she needs help.”

A chicken pecks at a hole in the fence next to them. Anne breathes in and out hastily. “Okay. Then tell me. Quick, before either of us change our minds.”

“She said she hasn’t been eating. On purpose, though.” He gazes down at the grass and plucks a few blades from the earth just for something to do with his fidgeting hands. “She’s starving herself.”

Anne’s face grows grim. After a moment of letting the revelation sink in she replies, eyes on the ground, “That makes a horrible sort of sense, doesn’t it? She hasn’t eaten lunch at school in weeks. But she told me it was because her mother cooked her such a large breakfast she wasn’t hungry…” She looks at him. “Why would she do that?”

Jerry shrugs with heavy shoulders, closing his eyes. “She doesn’t think she deserves food, is what she told me. And when she does eat it, she makes herself throw it all up.” He swallows. “That’s how I found out. I saw her, in the woods, throwing up.”

Anne nearly shudders at the image. “That’s so horrible. Poor, poor Diana. I should have noticed what was wrong. Of course I knew something  _ was  _ wrong, but I just assumed it was her horrid fiancé…”

All the blood rushes out of Jerry’s head as he numbly repeats, “Fiancé?”

Anne nods. “Didn’t she tell you? Well, I suppose it’s not information she would share with just anyone.  And for now he’s just courting her, but...her mother and father want them married in less than a year.” She says it as if it’s nothing more than another somber detail of Diana’s tragic situation while Jerry’s world collapses around him. “She met him a couple weeks ago and he was dreadful. But I have a feeling this has been going on a lot longer than that.”

He wonders if Diana met her fiancé before or after they kissed in the barn that one night. He just feels stupid. Like the idiot farmhand could ever have anything with a beautiful but troubled rich girl.

“I don’t know. She didn’t say how long,” he replies. Then a memory appears at the forefront of his mind. “But in April I found her in the woods, vomiting again. Only she told me she was sick.” Rage begins to boil inside him as he realizes just how long he’s been lied to. “I helped her into the barn! But the whole time she was—”

Anne leans forward urgently and places a calming hand on his shoulders. “Hey, Jerry, stop! We can’t afford to get angry at Diana. Right now we have to focus on helping her. If she’s been denying herself food, among other things, that means she’s not in her right mind, okay? It’s not her fault and we shouldn’t blame her for things out of her control.”

His heart still beats rapidly and his fingernails dig into his palms, but he forces breathing to slow as he thinks of Diana’s desperation yesterday for him to understand that if she could choose for things to be different, she would.

“Okay,” he mutters.

Anne nods and removes her hand. “We’ll talk about Diana’s fiancé and... you two, but  _ later _ , okay? We still have to help our friend.”

So he shoves his anger as far back into his head as it can go, and tries to focus on one thing at a time. And while Jerry still doesn’t get why Diana would need to do something like that to herself, Jerry’s willing to try and learn if it means saving the life of someone who means something to him, even if that someone will never be his.

~

The next day, Anne skips school and Jerry plays sick so Marilla will send him home. They meet in the woods, at the beginning of the path that leads to the Barry’s house. 

“Do you think Diana will notice you’re not at school today?” Jerry asks as they walk side-by-side down the path. 

Anne sighs and shakes her head. “Even if she does, I doubt she’ll think much of it. It’s like she’s not even there most days, with how often she falls asleep in class.”

“I’m worried about her,” Jerry admits. 

“I know. Me too,” Anne says. “There was a girl at the orphanage who did kind of the same thing as Diana, but she did it for different reasons, I think. She wouldn’t eat because she thought it would bring her closer to God.” She looks down at the worn path beneath her feet. “It didn’t bother our mistresses though. She was just one less mouth to feed.”

“What happened to her? The girl.”

Anne crosses her arms and shrugs. “I don’t know. Now I wish I did. But the last time I saw her was at the orphanage before I lived with the Hammonds. When I went back after Mr. Hammond died, she wasn’t there anymore and no one said a word about it.”

The story sets the mood even graver than before. 

“What will Ms. Barry do when we tell her?” he asks after a heavy pause.

“I don’t know. But we have to tell someone who can do something. This just isn’t a problem we can face without help.”

He nods in agreement but doesn’t respond beyond that. Their purpose today is to see Diana’s mother, but the thought refuses to leave his mind that he’s also officially meeting the mother of the girl he’s kissed in the Cuthberts’ barn for minutes on end, the same mother who promised her daughter to some old rich man. 

They approach the Barrys’ front porch and pause, each taking in a deep breath. 

“Ready?” Anne asks, sounding small.

Jerry nods curtly and throws his shoulders back as Anne knocks three times on the wood door.

Diana’s mother answers after only a short moment and recoils slightly at the sight of them. “Anne, what on earth are you doing here and not at school?”

“All will be revealed shortly, Ms. Barry. We haven’t come without good reason, I promise,” Anne states. 

Ms. Barry appears unconvinced, hesitant. 

“It’s about Diana,” Anne continues. “May we come in?”

The mention of her daughter’s name snaps Ms. Barry into action and she opens the door wider so they can enter. Anne goes first, with Jerry following closely behind. 

Diana’s house is more beautiful than he’d imagined from seeing the outside. Ornate curtains hang from large windows that must let out so much heat in the wintertime. A large fireplace sits centered in the great room to remedy this, though it’s empty for the June heat. It’s hard for him to imagine any hardship or sadness coming from a place like this, but he knows from Diana things are not as perfect as they appear. Nobody’s life is simple, he’d told her once.

“Er, you work for the Cuthberts, don’t you?” Ms. Barry asks, surprising Jerry by addressing him directly. 

“Yes ma’am. Uh... _ je m’appelle  _ Jerry Baynard,” he says, sticking out a hand for her to shake. Ms. Barry either doesn’t notice or doesn’t oblige him and although he’s been treated far worse by others who think themselves better than him because they’re Protestant or wealthy or English _ , _ this stings a little bit worse. But he doesn’t let his mind focus on that, redirecting his thoughts towards Diana. 

Ms. Barry instructs them to sit on a large cushioned chair that is more than big enough for the both of them. She takes her seat opposite them.

“What is so important about my daughter that you had to miss school to tell me? And don’t think I won’t be telling Marilla about your visit.”

Anne and Jerry share a heavy glance. Then Anne speaks up, “Ms. Barry, have you noticed that Diana has been acting different lately?”

Ms. Barry doesn’t react, just keeps her back straight and asks, “Different how?”

Anne places two hands on her knees. Jerry realizes that it’s going to harder than he thought to convince Ms. Barry of anything. Better just to let Anne speak to the woman. 

“For one she’s been very reserved. She hardly tells me anything anymore.”

Ms. Barry doesn’t break eye contact when she counters, “Yes, well, it was high time for her to stop all that girlish chit chat. You’d do well to follow suit, Anne-girl.”

“It’s not that.” Anne sighs in frustration. “I mean Diana barely even contributes to conversation. She’ll just sit there, looking miles away. And when we ask her a question, she’ll jump and not know what’s going on like she wasn’t there the whole time. But even if you haven’t noticed that, surely you see how rail-thin she’s become, how little she eats!”

Ms. Barry doesn’t have a stinging remark to this, just presses her lips together in a tight line. Just this little shift in character, the tiniest rip in her facade, shows Jerry that they’ve reached her, just a little. “Is this is going somewhere, please get there.”

Anne places a hand on Jerry’s forearm. “We think we know why. Jerry, will you tell her what Diana told you?”

Uncomfortable and shrinking under Ms. Barry’s unwavering and scrutinizing stare, Jerry quietly recounts the incident of finding Diana in the woods, and her tearful confession. “She told me not to tell anyone, but I was too worried,” he finishes lamely. 

“I wasn’t aware you and my daughter were close,” Ms. Barry said, in lieu of a reaction.

His frustration grows with each minute that Ms. Barry stays skeptical. He gets it, not wanting to believe a loved one is going through something sad and destructive. The truth remains that Diana is in trouble, and needs help. But he doesn’t quite know how to articulate that into words, so, stunted, he turns to Anne. 

Immediately understanding, she takes over. “Of course they know each other. She sees him every time she comes to Green Gables. But that’s not the point! The point is that Diana is hurting herself. This isn’t a joke, Ms. Barry. We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t serious.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air and Jerry feels the need to speak. “Please, ma’am. During harsh winters… I’ve seen people starve to death. We don’t want her to die. Do you?”

For the first time, Ms. Barry cracks. “Of course I don’t! She’s my daughter. I love her!” She deflates and looks down. “You say my daughter is doing this to herself on purpose?”

Anne nods. “That’s about all we know. Does that mean you believe us?”

Ms. Barry hesitates, saying, “I suppose it would make sense… but I still need to talk to Diana about all this.” She stands up and lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you for coming to me with this.”

She almost sounds sincere as she ushers Anne and Jerry out the door. As the two walk back to Green Gables, Jerry says, “Diana will know it’s me who told. She won’t be happy about it.”

Anne nods gravely, threading her hands together tightly in front of her. “I know. But I’d rather have an angry Diana than no Diana at all.” 

Jerry crosses his arms in front of him but doesn’t respond. The thing between them is so new that it hurts to know he’s about to lose Diana’s trust so soon after having gained it. Anne is right, though. Truly caring about someone means doing what’s best for them, even if that comes at a price. 

“Jerry? Can I ask you a question?” Anne says quietly after a while. 

“Okay.”

Anne looks down at the well-treaded path below her shoes. “Is there anything between you and Diana?”

It takes a moment for Jerry to muster up the courage to say, “Maybe. I think so. Or at least there would have been.”

Another awkward silence fills the air before Anne asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jerry shrugs and truly has to think about it. Why didn’t they tell Anne, Diana’s closest friend, someone who’s like his sister? The simple answer is that there never seemed to be a good time to tell her. But Anne’s looking for the real, complicated answer. “I think Diana was scared, maybe. Telling people would make it real, you know?”

“And making it real would mean she’d have to open up, right?” Anne observes, perceptive as ever. 

Diana once said that she admired how sincere he was. He imagines having a horrible, all-consuming secret like she does, and how difficult it must be to keep something like that hidden. It must be on her mind constantly. And maybe everything else about her was bundled up inside, too. 

“I still don’t understand the whole food thing. But I think it has to do with how she started keeping everything else in her life a secret, too.”

Green Gables is in sight, which means Jerry will be going home soon. But he doesn’t want to leave Anne, the only other person in the world right now who shares the same burden. 

“I think you may be right,” Anne says. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. Guilt pierces Jerry’s heart because he knows that he and Diana are the cause of her pain. “I just really wish you would have told me.”

They reach Green Gables, and it’s time for them to depart before Matthew or Marilla sees Jerry and deduces that he wasn’t really sick. 

“I’m really sorry I hurt your feelings,” Jerry offers lamely. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Anne sniffs. “You don’t have to apologize. Things are such a big mess these days, aren’t they?”

All he can do is just nod and they embrace. Anne and Jerry don’t hug very often, but the air between them is so heavy that they both need a little comfort. Anne promises to tell Jerry if she hears of any news, and then they’re both off on their separate ways. 

~

When Diana arrives home from school, she immediately knows something is wrong. For one, Young Mary Joe is nowhere to be seen, though usually she’s around dusting curtains, churning butter, or something of the sort. The whole house is suspiciously quiet, except for the soft clink of her mother’s teacup as she sets in down on the Barry’s dining room table where she sits, a large plate of croissants next to her.

“Hello, Mother,” Diana greets cordially. 

“Welcome back, Diana. I trust school went well today?” 

“Yes, it did,” she answers blankly. She stands in the doorway to the dining room, a silent standoff of sorts with her mother. 

“Why don’t you sit with me and have some tea?” 

With her mother’s words, Diana’s blood runs cold and she realizes that Eliza  _ knows _ . Her rigid posture. The food. The lack of anyone else in a house typically full of servants. 

How did she find out? What did she do wrong? In her head, she goes over her every action in the last few days but, except for with Jerry in the woods, she hadn’t slipped up. She trusts that Jerry hasn’t told her mother. He wouldn’t betray her. She believes that. She has to. 

“I’m quite spent from school today,” she responds in a desperate attempt at deflection. “Perhaps later?”

She motions to move up the stairs to her own bedroom, but her mother stands up suddenly, stopping Diana in her tracks.

“There’s no need for that,” her mother says. “We must talk.”

The distress grows in her throat as any hope she had that Eliza Barry’s motives were any less than malignant vanish before her eyes. Gingerly, she places her food basket, emptied into the woods just minutes before, and school slate onto a nearby counter and joins her mother. 

Eliza pours her daughter a cup of tea and places a croissant in front of her. Diana feigns a sip of the tea, only letting the liquid touch her lips before placing the cup back down on the saucer. “Is this about school?” she says, adopting innocence. 

Next week is meant to be her last week at school with all her friends, a fact that terrifies her, but one she’d rather think of than having the conversation that her mother intends to have now. 

When Diana doesn’t touch the croissant, her mother comments, “Aren’t you going to eat? If you’re so worn you must be famished as well.”

So that’s the game they’re going to play. Diana wishes her mother would just come out and say it as she pushes the plate away. “The lunch Mary Joe packed me was enough. I’m not hungry.”

“So you always say. Eat the croissant, Diana.” 

Her face reddens, pulse quickens. “No. I’m not hungry,” she repeats. 

“Do it because I’ve told you so!” her mother demands, her voice growing louder. 

She could eat it, just to shut her mother up. But she hasn’t eaten since the time Jerry caught her in the woods and she knows herself well enough by now to know nothing good would result from that. Either she’d not stop eating, and her mother would be horrified at her lack of control, or her mother would witness her extreme measures to get rid of the food. Both would result in her mother seeing her as more of a freak than she already does. 

Given that her mother doesn’t already know about all of that. 

“I can’t,” Diana says, on the verge of crying. She’s starting to feel that urge, though, that it would be so easy to just pick up the food and bring it to her mouth. The thought starts to consume her mind, running alongside the intense need to keep her mother in the dark, and it’s so hard to keep up. It’s like she’s been on thin ice this whole time, but now it’s starting to crack beneath her. 

“Diana!” her mother exclaims, her eyes shining. 

It dawns on Diana that Eliza is trying to disprove it to herself as much as she’s trying to prove it. The thought completely breaks her and Diana starts to sob, shaking her head manically. “I’m sorry. I can’t eat that. I can’t.” She tries to catch her breathe to no avail but finds the power to ask, “How did you know?”

Her mother chokes out, “So it’s true? You’ve been starving yourself?” 

“Mother, tell me!” 

Diana needs to know what gave her away. 

“Your friends paid me a visit this morning while you were away at school.”

Her heart drops to her chest with betrayal. “My friends?” she whispers. 

Eliza nods. “Anne and that boy. The farm boy at Green Gables.” She straightens her back and wipes at her wet cheeks before grasping Diana’s hands in her own. “Darling, we’ll figure this out, won’t we? My doctor in Nova Scotia deals with ailments of the mind. He could help you.”

Clearly she underestimated Jerry. She should have denied everything! How foolish to confess when he’d caught her before and she got away with it then. She was weak. She is weak. And the doctor will see that and put her into an institution. 

Diana yanks her hands out of her mother’s grip and rises from her seat. “No. I won’t. I’m not going to a doctor, Mother!”

“You’re sick, Darling…”

“I can’t… I can’t be here right now. I have to leave.”

All she can think of is how Jerry pretended to care about her and lied to her face when she asked him to keep her secret. All she wants to do is ask him why. 

And so she does. Her mother on her tail, she runs right out the door, faster than she thought her body would be capable of, all the way down the path to Green Gables and into the Cuthbert’s barn, the very place where their relationship had grown. 

Jerry isn’t around. But Mr. Cuthbert is, shoveling hay, the job usually tasked to Jerry. 

“Diana? What’re you doing here?” Mr. Cuthbert asks as her body fall out from underneath her and the world goes black.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Phoebe, Gus, and Owyn for being my personal cheerleaders. I love y'all a whole lot for all the support you've given me on this story. 
> 
> I really liked writing this chapter, even though certain parts were incredibly challenging. I have a soft spot in my heart for Jerry's family (you haven't seen the last of them yet). Sometimes I forget I made them up lol. 
> 
> Also, how would y'all feel about a sequel to this?? If I did, and it took place a couple years later, what would you want to see?
> 
> thanks for reading! find me on tumblr @antspaul if tumblr hasn't deleted itself yet LOL


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the usual warnings apply. you are worth life. you are more than your eating disorder and deserve recovery. 
> 
> so much love to owyn, gus, and phoebe. y'all are so wonderful.

When she comes to, she’s laying on the settee, a pillow under her neck and a damp cloth on her forehead. The orange light of sunset tells her more than a few hours have passed, which is worrying. She’s never been out that long before. Her mother sits by her side while her father paces in the background and Minnie May plays with her doll. Her mother and father discuss something intensely. She can guess the subject matter but they stop when they see she’s awake, before she fully comprehends their words. 

Her mother grabs her hand. “Darling, thank goodness you’re awake. Do you know how worried we were about you?”

“Sorry,” she says weakly, sitting up. Eliza tries to push her back down but Diana resists, already on the mend and feeling better. “What happened?”

“You fainted in the Cuthbert’s barn, dear. Do you remember that?”

Diana nods. “Yes. I was upset and I wanted to see Anne,” she lies. She eyes her father, who stands a distance away, his hands drawn behind his back. It’s unclear how much he knows. “Are you really going to take me to the doctor?”

“Yes,” her father replies firmly. “We will leave for Nova Scotia this Saturday.”

“I don’t need the doctor,” Diana insists, eyes wide with worry. “I’ll get better, I promise, I’ll eat. I can stop.”

“Can you?” her mother asks, tilting her head. 

Diana’s father sighs and leaves the room as he tends to do when things get heavy, leaving Diana alone in the sitting room with her mother and Minnie May. She sees the opportunity and she takes it. 

She exhales loudly which catches her mother’s attention. 

“Perhaps I could try to eat dinner,” Diana says. 

Eliza leans forward. “What should I get you?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter.” 

Eliza nods, patting Diana’s hands, and then stands up to retreat to the kitchen. As soon as she hears clinking of dishes, Diana throws the blanket off of her and gets to her feet. 

Minnie May watches from the ground with a steady gaze. As Diana pulls her shoes on and quickly laces them up, she puts a finger to her lips for Minnie May to be quiet. Her sister doesn’t seem to care though, just moves her doll’s legs into a compromising position that their mother would scold her for were she in the room. 

Diana grabs her coat from the table she’d thrown it before making her first escape and tugs it over her arms, buttoning up the front. Likely she has only a minute more before Eliza notices something amiss and comes out to check on them. So Diana closes her eyes to get her bearings and slips out the front door as quickly and quietly as possible. 

As she briskly strides down the path, fast as she can go without repeating the incident of earlier, everything about her day comes crashing down on her, disorienting and petrifying. Diana only has two days to convince her parents that she’s fine and doesn’t need a doctor. She knows making a break for it-  _ again _ \- definitely isn’t helping her case but her mind is reeling. There’s only one place she can think to go to make it better. 

Before she gets there, though, she collapses at the side of the path once she’s a safe distance away from her home. There’s no food in her stomach but she purges anyway, barely even bringing up water. The noise in her head is deafening and this is the only way she knows to quiet it. 

~

Diana has never been to Jerry’s house, but she knows he lives in town, above his family’s cobbler shop. It’s dark by the time she reaches the brick building, adorned with a sign appropriately reading “SHOE REPAIR”, but there’s still a light in the window that faces the street so Diana walks inside. 

A man sits behind a large wood counter, focusing intently on the leather boot in front of him, needle and thread in his mouth. At the opening of the door, he spits out the needle and looks up, smiling. 

“ _ Bonjour _ , Madame,” the man, who she assumes is Jerry’s father, says. “Can I do anything for you this evening?”

He looks at her, expectant, with kindness in his eyes. They’re dark brown, just like his son’s. Right as she’s about to answer, a door opens a girl a few years younger than her comes out. “Papa, Maman says it’s time for supper,” she says in French. 

Mr. Baynard nods, replying in the same dialect Jerry uses, “ _ Oui _ . I will be up as soon as I’m done helping this  _ madame _ .”

The girl, one of Jerry’s sisters but she can’t determine which one, nods politely to her and then moves to close the door before swinging it back open to exclaim, “Oh! You’re Diana Barry!”

Mr. Baynard raises his brows, standing up a little straighter. “Oh, I did not realize you were here on social business. Which of my children are you here to see?”

The girl walks over to Diana, placing a gentle hand on Diana’s shoulder. “She’s here to see Jerry, I bet.” She turns to her. “Are you not?”

Startled out of her silence, Diana responds, “Oh. Well, yes. I have a pressing question to ask him.”

Mr. Baynard smiles at her once again, gesturing up the stairs with one arm, and Jerry’s sister pulls her towards the door leading to the second floor of the building. Their warmth only amplifies the guilt rooted down deep in her chest. Would they be as kind, if they knew why she was there?

As she and Margot climb the stairs, Diana makes an assumption and quietly remarks, “I didn’t know anyone else knew about us.”

Margot looks down at the older girl and replies, “Not everyone. Just me. I am Margot, by the way.”

That makes sense, from the little Jerry has spoken about his family, and how close he is to his younger sister.

Margot is first to the top of the stairs, where Diana notices a woman tending to the oven- Jerry’s mother, probably. She stands up at the entrance of Margot and Diana, wiping the soot off her palms with a towel. 

“Who is this?” Jerry’s mother asks Margot. 

Diana reaches the top of the stairs and is able to see the full room, which is less than twice the size of Diana’s own bedroom at home. But all that Jerry’s family owns is in this one room, which its cramped kitchen and two mattresses that appear infinitely too small for all the bodies that must occupy them at night. 

“Diana?” Jerry says. He sits on one of the beds, a newspaper and pencil in hand, but rises at the sight of her, dusting his shirt off and fixing the orientation of his suspenders. 

A little girl plays with a doll at his feet, extremely reminiscent of Minnie May. She giggles something about Jerry and Diana that Jerry ignores, crossing the room. 

He briefly introduces her to his mother, then asks Diana, “What are you doing here?”

Diana glances at all of the members of his family present in the room, and says, “Is there somewhere more private we can go?”

He nods. “We can go to the garden.”

“Alright.” 

She follows him back down the stairs, past his father, out the door, and around the building through an alley to the backside of his house, where a small garden sits under the dim light from the moon and stars. It’s chilly out, made worse because there’s a heavy breeze in the air and Diana is nothing but skin and bones. 

Jerry leads her to a small wood bench in front of a healthy-looking patch of cabbage and they both sit. 

She takes a moment to just stare at him, totally unable to guess what he’s thinking despite how transparent he always appears. Then she states as calmly as she can manage, “You know why I’m here.”

He frowns and rubs the back of his neck. He doesn’t meet her eyes. “I can make a guess.”

She could drag this out. But she has no energy for any of that right now. The dizziness from her most recent purge has just sunk in, the post-daze fading to the harsh realities of the moment, and she’s so very drained. So she goes right into it. “Why did you tell my mother?”

His forehead creases. “Anne thought that--”

So Anne knows. Her throat is raw and her mouth is dry, so she has to nearly force the words out. “Why did you tell  _ anyone _ ? Mother and Father are going to take me to a doctor soon. They could put me into an institution. You know what happens to women there!”

“I don’t,” he says quietly. 

“They don’t come back.” The thought is so awful she can’t even wrap her mind around it. She tells him, her voice small, “I trusted you.”

He pauses. “If you didn’t want anyone to know, then why did you tell me?”

The tears she expects haven’t come yet, which surprises her. But her body has no more tears left. She’s cried them all out. 

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Nothing I do makes sense anymore.”

She doesn’t even think she’s mad at him. 

“I think maybe you should go to the doctor,” Jerry says. He grabs her hand tentatively, then squeezes it after she doesn’t yank it out of his grip. 

“I’m so scared.”

He can still see right through her. She’s still so vulnerable around him. And even though he betrayed her trust awfully, she still can’t help but trust him. So she knows he’ll answer truthfully when she asks, “Can you tell me why you did it? Please? Why did you tell?”

He sighs and rubs his eyes with his free hand, slumping forward on the bench, and is completely silent for a long time. Finally, he talks. “I know what it’s like to starve. I know what happens when you don’t eat.” He looks up at her for the first time. And now she can see that it’s  _ his _ eyes that are wet instead of hers. “To think that something like that could happen to you...”

If only it were as easy as wanting to get better. “I’m really sorry. I can’t stop. I’ve tried. I don’t know what else to do.”

The once or twice she’d decided enough was enough and managed to eat a meal that landed in the middle of the two extremes she’s been living between, only a few hours passed before she found herself back outside, finger down her throat, overcome with the intense need to feel empty again. 

He grips her hand tight, drawing it closer to him. “I know it’s not a choice- I understand that, I think. But have you tried asking for help?”

“No,” she chokes out. An admission of weakness might be enough to break Diana for good. But another Diana yearns to finally be relieved of the burden, the unwieldy weight that spirals further out of control with each passing moment. “What if it doesn’t work?”

She’s so, so tired. Tired of everything revolving around how horribly she sees herself, tired of this ruining every meaningful relationship she has or once had, tired of feeling tired all of the time. This thing, like a monster, grew and grew until it completely consumed her. Diana refused to eat so her body just fed on itself, devouring until nothing was left but the husk of a girl. 

She might not have the strength to take her life back, and she can’t forget that getting better means giving up control. The thought is almost as terrifying as the prospect of having no future. Because it’s clear that’s how this will end. And maybe she doesn’t want to die after all. 

Jerry’s piercing gaze never wavers as he says, “What if it does?”

So maybe she can try. For him. For Anne. For Minnie May. For the people she hasn’t yet driven away. 

...For herself?

Diana’s body sags, her shoulders hunched, and her eyes press shut. The silence renders everything in its image, unmoving, except for the chorus of frogs in the distance and the soft sound of Jerry’s breathing. And then she opens her eyes and everything is suddenly clear. “I don’t know if I can. It’s-it’s hard to express just how much I don’t want to.” She swallows. “But I have to, don’t I?”

He stays quiet. Just nods, briefly, and squeezes her hand. Diana lays her head on his shoulder and his arms automatically wrap around her. She’s safe there. Warm. She’s hesitant to leave and face the world, and more importantly, her mother, but she’s done much harder things. So she pulls back, shakily. 

“Would you walk me home?” she asks, her voice small. “I should… I need to talk to my mother.”

He stands up. “Let me go get my hat.”

~

As they walk back through the woods on the path leading out of town and towards the Barry’s house, Diana clings tightly to Jerry’s arm. There’s something impending about their march through the thick woods in the brisk night air. Jerry holds a lantern in one hand, illuminating the ground in front of them, but it does little to cut through the darkness and they rely primarily on memory to find their way. 

Despite their serious conversation just minutes earlier, Diana feels compelled tell him, “Your family seemed very nice.”

Jerry nods. “I wish I could spend more time with them. But sometimes I don’t even go home at night, I work so much.”

Little things like that bring her back to reality. He’s poor with a loving family and she’s rich with a family that seems to care more about status than her wellbeing. Which is worse? 

In a way, that’s the choice she must make. She can join Sergeant Montgomery in a loveless union and make her parents happy or she can marry for love and earn their enduring scorn. 

The world pays no heed to naive notions of romance. 

Diana allows her mind to imagine spending the rest of her life with Jerry. She wonders if she’d be happy as the quiet provincial wife of a poor man with no trade. Maybe she would, but there are so many obstacles to having that life. There’s the money issue, but he’s also Catholic. Not to mention the fact that her parents have all but promised her to someone else. 

She wishes she didn’t have to choose. To even have the choice, she must first decide to live. 

“You talked to your family about me,” she says.

He shrugs. “Only to Margot.”

“That’s what she said. What did she think of me, from what you told her?”

He raises an eyebrow in the dim light. “She never met you before today. So she thought you were a spoiled, beautiful rich girl. I told her she was half-right.”

Diana knows which one he means. She still says, “That I’m spoiled and rich?”

“No matter how many people tell you you’re beautiful, you’ll never believe them, will you?”

It’s not a question. 

“I used to believe it,” she says. 

Her long, silky hair. Her plump lips. Her smooth skin. They used to be a source of pride. 

“Not anymore, though?”

“I always think they’re just saying it out of pity.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

A gust of cold air hits them and Diana pulls her coat tighter around her chest. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t.” She exhales a heavy and pensive breath and shakes her head, looking down. “You know that you and me- we were never going to last.”

Jerry sighs and admits, “Anne told me about your…”

“Sergeant,” she supplies. 

Jerry shrugs. “Whoever.”

“It’s more than that though. My parents would never approve of us,” Diana says. 

“I know that, too.”

“So then why are you acting like you care about me?” she suddenly exclaims. 

Jerry halts, stopping her with him. “You think I’m pretending to care about you?” he asks incredulously. “Sometimes things are simple, Diana. Sometimes, when people act like they care, they do.”

He scoffs and starts walking again. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. And while they’re being honest, she confesses, “It’s just… when we get there, I know things are never going to be the same.”

Wind whistles through the canopy of leaves above them. Diana’s stomach pinches with a reminder that she’s hasn’t kept a meal in weeks. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” he tells her. 

She says, “Okay,” but it doesn’t feel okay.

They’ve reached the end of the woods and Diana’s house is now in sight. Where they stand is close to the spot where she usually purges. She tries not to think about that.

“Thank you,” she whispers. He nods to her with a serious face. 

They embrace and he kisses her cheek. It’s not enough for her and she brings him back to her for a more desperate last kiss on the lips. Still in his arms, Diana thinks he’s going to say something more. But he just squeezes her one last time.

And with that last bit of warmth, he releases her and turns around. She watches him go, disappearing into the dark with his lantern only visible, until she can’t find an excuse to wait anymore. So she walks toward her house, off to face her parents. Off to face her future. 

~

Diana takes a deep breath, in and out, as she quietly open the back door to her house. She tiptoes inside, only to find her mother, alert and anxiously cross-stitching on the settee, waiting for her. 

At Diana’s entrance, her mother’s back straightens and she stands up. “Diana!” she exclaims, throwing her needlepoint aside and rushing towards her daughter and enveloping her in her arms. “Where on earth have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been, with everything else that’s happened today?”

Diana wrestles out of her mother’s grasp, but Eliza keeps ahold of Diana’s hands. “Where is Father?”

Her mother doesn’t meet her eyes. “He went to look for you, but came back early. He has a very important meeting in the morning.”

Diana gulps and leads her mother to the settee, and they sit. “I’m alright, Mother. Jerry walked me home.”

“He seems to be very involved in your life as of late.”

Diana speaks up before Eliza continues and accuses her of something she can’t deny. “Jerry’s a friend,” she half-lies, “I just needed to talk to him. About what he told you.” She breathes deeply, in and out. “And I thought perhaps we could do the same… talk, I mean.”

Her mother opens her mouth to say something, then decides against it, pressing her lips tightly together.

“I need you to hear me out.” 

Eliza sighs and leans toward Diana, patting the back of her hand. “Whatever you have to say, I will listen.”

Diana nods. There is so much she must convey, but she grapples with the right words to use. Usually, she would extensively plan something like this out to ensure she would have absolute control over the conversation. But everything happened so fast today that she can barely keep up with herself. She’s waging a war in her mind, trying to accept that it’s all about to come out. 

Diana gives a hollow laugh. “I don’t even know what to say to you, Mother.”

“Why don’t you start with when this all started?” her mother offers.

Nodding, Diana is quiet for a moment so she can think. “I suppose I don’t know when it started. It was slow, at first. I just didn’t want to get any bigger. But then... I know know. But then all I could think about was to eat less. So I did.”

Eliza tucks a piece of Diana’s hair behind her ear. “Were you really so unhappy that you needed to change yourself so much?”

“I don’t know, Mother.” Diana shrugs. “It just felt like everything was falling apart, and maybe if I was beautiful like Anne things would get better. But then they only got worse.”

Her eyes betray her need to keep it together by stinging with tears. Diana sniffs and tucks her legs underneath her on the settee, the red velvet fabric soft on her skin. 

“I’m so sorry,” Eliza whispers, voice choked, and also appears ready to cry. Her thumb draws small circles on her daughter’s wrist. “This is all my fault, isn’t it?”

At that, the tears begin to flow freely down her cheeks. “Mother, no, I- I… I know what I’m doing to myself. I know what I’m doing is unhealthy. It’s not all your fault, but… I will  _ never  _ get better if I have to marry the Sergeant. I don’t want him to court me. I just can’t do it, Mother. It would be unbearable.”

Her mother exhales slowly, not breathing a word for a long moment. The silence hangs in the air, only permeated by Diana’s quickening heartbeat, thumping in her ears. 

Eliza leans forward, chin resting on a closed fist. Finally, she says, “If that’s what you need, I will talk to your father about it. Perhaps he can call Sergeant Montgomery off.”

Diana is so surprised at her mother’s capitulation that she audibly gasps, covering her mouth. Her nose drips and her face is warm. “I thought for certain you’d…”

“All I want is for you to be happy,” her mother says, her eyes glistening. 

Suddenly the image of how disturbed Eliza appeared at the dinner where William first announced Sergeant Montgomery’s intentions pops into Diana’s mind. 

Eliza continues, “I want you to love who you marry. I didn’t love your father, not at first. I grew to love him with time, but… when your friends told me everything happening to you, I was absolutely paralyzed with fear knowing you were going through so much right under my nose and I never saw how much you were hurting.”

“I’m sorry if I disappointed you,” Diana says miserably. 

Eliza pulls her daughter into a tight hug and doesn’t let go. “You haven’t disappointed me at all.” She gently strokes Diana’s hair. “I love you so much. We’re going to do what it takes to get you better, aren’t we?”

Diana draws back slightly in her mother’s arms, wiping her wet eyes with the back of her hand. “I know I need to go to the doctor.”

Eliza nods, smiling sadly. “It would be a lot easier if I had your cooperation. There’s no shame in seeing a psychiatrist. He was my own doctor not too long ago, you know.”

And how could she forget the summer of Minnie May’s birth, when her mother could scarcely get out of bed, much less take care of her newborn baby? Things seemed so bleak then, like the darkness and worry that settled deep in the corners of their house would never go away, although they eventually did.

“What if he wants to put me in an asylum? Mother, I couldn’t.”

Shaking her head, Eliza replies, “I won’t let them.” Her eyebrows knit together and her forehead creases, showing her age. “I’m not ready for my little girl to leave me.”

“I’ll go,” she says. “I’ll go.”

Again, her mother brings a relieved Diana close to her and her daughter squeezes her back. And the future seems so, so terrifying, but Diana thinks maybe she can do it.

She owes it to herself to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting really close to the end. as always, i would love to hear what you think. this story is truly my baby, a little part of me. Much of what Diana went through reflects my own experiences having an eating disorder to a certain extent. But eating disorders comes in a million different forms, so don't take Diana's experiences as gospel. But what Diana is going through is genuine.
> 
> as always, find me on tumblr @anstpaul. i love to hear from you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> standard warnings. no descriptions of any graphic eating disorder behavior this chapter, but detailed discussions of recovery. 
> 
> this is the last chapter. i hope you all enjoyed the fic :) it was extremely cathartic to write, and i appreciate each of you for giving me a place to share an intimate part of me, and for receiving it so well. special thanks to phoebe, gus, and owyn. i love you all so much and you inspire me every day :)

The spring has bloomed into a bright and beautiful summer, one of the most breathtaking Anne Shirley-Cuthbert can remember. Yet ever since her kindred spirit Diana Barry left town without any preamble, she can’t quite tap into that joy as much as she usual. 

Two weeks ago, the last time she heard of Diana, Mr. Barry had shown up at Green Gables on horseback, worried sick for his missing daughter. Anne barely slept that night, not knowing if her friend had made it home or not. Relief only came the next morning, when Jerry revealed ran to his house, but that he personally escorted her safely back home. 

Anne guesses Diana made it to the doctor, but Diana’s absence still troubles her. Jerry seems just as perturbed, quiet and pensive as he works around the farm, not even up for the easy banter they always fall into. 

She runs a hand over the jagged wood edges of the Lynde’s fence, which she must pass by to reach the small patch of woods that divides the properties of the Barrys and Cuthberts. She prays silently that Diana is alright, and that she’ll see her bosom friend again soon. 

A bird flies circles, weaving through the branches of the trees overhead Anne as she enters the woods, which lifts her spirits a little bit. The bird chirps. Anne passes the fork in the road where she usually leaves Diana and a small tinge of sadness tugs at her heart. 

Yards ahead, Jerry and Matthew are fixing part of the fence that a recent storm damaged. Matthew holds up a post and turns around to ask Jerry something unintelligible. Jerry doesn’t react. Matthew has to repeat himself before Jerry finally acts on his words and wordlessly hands Matthew a pocket knife.

Anne’s closer now, so she can hear Matthew say, “I asked for the hammer.”

“Oh.” Jerry blinks, giving him the right tool. “Sorry.”

Anne passes by them. “Hello, Matthew.” She kisses Matthew on the cheek. “Hello, Jerry.”

Jerry nods as she moves along, barely acknowledging her. 

A few minutes later, Anne is glad to be home. 

Marilla greets her at the door, stepping aside to let Anne in. “You have a guest in the sitting room,” she tells Anne. 

Intrigued, Anne sets her slate and basket down on the kitchen table, praying her guest is who she wants it to be, but wary of getting her hopes up only to be disappointed. 

Removing her hat, she peers into the sitting room and catches a glance of a woman around Ms. Stacy’s age who she doesn’t recognize. Once her hat and coat are hanging in their spots on the rack, Anne hurries into the sitting room, Marilla at her tail, to find Diana, sitting straight on the settee, hands placed primly in her lap. 

A huge smile grows on Anne’s face at the sight of her dearest friend, and she wastes no time rushing to Diana’s side to envelope her in a warm hug. 

“How I’ve missed you!” Anne says into Diana’s shoulder, unable to fight the giddiness in her voice, or to hide the relief. 

Diana squeezes Anne in return. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I thought you would never come back.”

From the doorway, Marilla clears your throat. “Ms. Rhodes, would you like a cup of tea?” she asks the woman. 

Ms. Rhodes’ eyes flicker to Diana and then back to Marilla. “Yes, that would be quite lovely.”

She follows Marilla back into the kitchen. 

Anne pulls back from their embrace, grasping Diana’s hands in her own. “Who is she?” she asks. 

“She’s supposed to be keeping an eye on me, to make sure I don’t do something bad,” Diana answers, her gaze shifting down and shoulders tensing. A hand rests on her stomach like it pains her. “Doctor’s orders.”

Anne exhales as she’s reminded why Diana went away. “You’re not too angry with me for tell your mother, are you?”

Diana looks back up at Anne with the smallest smile upturning her lips. “I suppose you spoke to Jerry, then.”

Anne nods. “I was terribly worried about you when you didn’t show up at school the next day, after everything that had happened. At first I thought your mother decided to withdraw you prematurely--”

“No, I would’ve warned you if that had happened,” Diana interjects. 

“And I knew that you would have, of course. But you know me- once my mind starts going, it doesn’t want to stop. So that’s why I asked Jerry.” Anne sighs, dramatic and mournful, and continues, “Oh, don’t be mad at him, Diana, I practically forced him to tell me. He said you had gone with your parents to see a doctor.”

“Yes, that’s where I went. The doctor was in Nova Scotia.” Diana glancing down and swallows before meeting Anne’s intense stare. “And I’m not mad at you, or anyone else. Perhaps it could have been handled better.” She shrugs, letting out a big breath of air. “Or perhaps it could have been.”

Anne leans forward towards Diana on the settee. “I’m awfully sorry I had to betray your trust to do it, anyway.”

Giving her a sad smile, Diana says, “I forgive you, Anne. Honestly, I should be apologizing to you for everything I’ve put you through these past few months. I know I haven’t been the easiest to be around recently.”

The hug again, and Anne says, “Don’t be ridiculous, my dearest Diana. Even at your worst, I want to be around you.”

Diana’s eyes shine as she says, “I’m so very lucky to have you as my bosom friend.” She wipes at her eyes, even though she’s shed no tears. “How much did Jerry tell you, exactly?”

Anne gives her a sad smile, trying to keep up her spirits. “He told me enough. But we can discuss  _ that _ later. What happened at the doctors?” she asks eagerly. 

Immediately Anne can tell the subject makes her friend tense and on guard. But despite her obvious discomfort, Diana starts to speak. “At first it was a lot like any other visit to the doctor. They weighed me, took my measurements, all of that. And then he asked me a bunch of questions- about what I ate, how I felt, some other things, too. It went on for a long time. And then at the end, he diagnosed me with-- well, it’s called anorexia nervosa.”

“My, and you say I use big words,” Anne jokes feebly. 

Diana shrugs. “Dr. Clarke told me it’s a disease of the mind that affects mainly women. There are a lot things it can make you do. For me, it made me not eat and--” she looks down and swallows. “Everything else.”

Anne’s eyebrows knit together and she places a gentle hand over Diana’s. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it was difficult.”

“You don’t think differently of me, do you?” Diana asks, avoiding Anne’s eyes. 

“No, of course not, Diana.” Anne adorns the most comforting smile she can muster. “Do I think differently of you everytime you become sick? When I swore that we would be bosom friends for as long as the sun and moon endured, I meant it. Nothing has changed that.” Anne’s eyebrows furrowed. “I just wish you told me about it.”

Diana gives a heavy exhales. “I know that. And I badly did want to tell you about everything, I really did, but I just couldn’t.” Her shoulders hunch up at her sides as Diana sags on the settee and tentatively meets Anne’s gaze. “Could you ever forgive me for the way I’ve treated you?”

Anne’s smile reaches the far corners of her face. “Darling Diana, what do I have to forgive you for?”

Once more they embrace, lingering in each other’s arms for a still moment. Then Anne pulls back and clears her throat. “Now. You  _ must _ tell me everything about you and Jerry. I’ve grilled him already but predictably he’s been frustratingly tight-lipped about the whole thing.”

Diana blushes and Anne remembers how it used to be between them, easy and light. Normalcy has yet to return, and Anne doubts it ever will, but for now she knows all will be well. Eventually.

~

Jerry kneels on the damp ground at the base of the fence, holding the post firmly at its base so that Mr. Cuthbert can make the proper adjustments to the top, when he sees his older companion straighten. 

“Oh, hello, Diana,” Mr. Cuthbert says. 

The words send a shock down Jerry’s spine that make him stand straight up, almost knocking over the fence and undoing the work he and Mr. Cuthbert had spent all afternoon accomplishing. 

Diana stands there, beautiful as ever in a light blue dress that hugs her curves a little more exactly than before. A light blush tints her cheeks. “Hello, Mr. Cuthbert,” she says to the man. She takes a deep breath then continues, “Jerry, could we, perhaps… talk?”

Jerry removes his hat and runs a hand through his hand through his hair, moist with sweat. He looks toward Mr. Cuthbert, who nods in allowance. 

He offers her his arm, which she readily takes and they stroll towards a nearby tree close enough to see Mr. Cuthbert and Green Gables, but far enough to be out of earshot. 

“I’m glad to see you,” he tells her as she lowers herself onto a protruding root. 

“Likewise,” Diana says, her hands folding neatly in her lap. “Anne seemed very concerned that would be angry with you both. But I’m not.”

One side of his mouth quirks up. “Never?”

“Well, perhaps when I first found it, but… well, to be honest, much of that is a blur in my mind.” Diana looks down, biting her lip. “It’s only been a week since I met with the doctor, but I feel a lot better, at least in a lot of ways. I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

He shrugs, unsure really of how to respond. He can’t help but feel that he still needs to walk on eggshells around her. To him she’s still this fragile thing that could be lost forever with one misstep. So he moves on and says, “So… you’re back for good, now?”

Diana nods. “They wanted to put me in an asylum, as I predicted. It would only have been for a few weeks, but I didn’t want that and neither did Mother. So we worked something out.” 

Diana turns around, towards the road leading back to Green Gables. She gestures into the distance, where a young woman, clad in grey, stands alert, watching them. 

“That’s Ms. Rhodes,” she continues, “My very own keeper. She follows me everywhere I go to make sure I don’t do anything bad.”

Diana swallows. Anything bad. They’re both thinking of the same incident, the one that for Diana made everything unravel. He’s still trying to make sense of it in his head, a task Jerry knows is futile. The only person who can do that is Diana and there are some things she’ll never let out. 

Jerry tempts fate when he asks, “What about school?”

Diana squints at the sun that faces them and breathes in, out, pushing her shoulders back. But her face doesn’t darken like it would have, once upon a time. “I won’t be back for the remainder of the term. But Mother says if this summer goes well, I can return for the fall.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m trying to be positive about it.”

Diana sighs. 

Then he works towards the pressing question at the forefront of his head. It takes a pause for him to finally gather the courage but he forces the words out. “Maybe we should talk about us.”

“Maybe we should.”

All is silent for a moment. The summer air is warm around them, a breeze whistling through the leaves of the tree above, as Diana envelopes his hand with her own and he knows for certain he hasn’t lost her yet.

A faint smile adorns her lips and Diana says, “We’ll see, I think. The future seems so awfully large, doesn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again thank you all so much! the ending is vague, i know. not all the loose ends are tied up as of now, but i wanted diana to choose recovery, even if everything in her life isn't perfect yet. i promise all will be revealed in the sequel to this fic, which i have officially started to plan out and i will hopefully start uploading that around january or february. 
> 
> thanks once more!! please share your thoughts with me in the comments! it motivates me a whole lot :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it :) If you didn't like it, also leave a comment.


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